Select language to translate this lyric
Oh he was a lord of high degree
And she was a lass from the low country
But she loved his lordship so tenderly
Oh sorrow sing sorrow
Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod
and No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god
One morn when the sun was on the mead
he passed by her door on a milk white steed
she smiled and then she spoke but he paid no need
Oh sorrow sing sorrow
Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod
and No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god
if you be a lass from the low country
Don't love no lord of high degree
they haint heart nor sympathy
Oh sorrow sing sorrow
Now she sleeps in the valley where wild flowers nod
and No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god
- Album:
- The Ash Grove