Early one morning,
just as the sun was rising,
I heard a young maid sing in the valley below.
Oh, don't deceive me,
oh, never leave me,
How could you use a poor maiden so?
Remember the vows that you made to me truly,
Remember how tenderly you nestled close to me,
Gaze the garland,
fresh are the roses I've called from the garden to bind over thee.
Here I now wandered alone as I wander,
Why did you leave me to sigh and complain?
I ask of the roses, why should I be forsaken?
Why must I here in sorrow remain?
Through yonder grove,
by the spring that is running,
There you and I have so merrily played,
Kissing and courting
and gently sporting,
Oh, my
innocent heart you've betrayed,
Soon you will meet with another
pretty maiden,
Some pretty maiden you'll court up for a while,
Thus ever ranging,
turning and changing,
Always seeking for a girl that is new.
Thus sung the maiden, her sorrows bewailing,
Thus sung the maiden, the valley below.