(Trad)
It was in the month of January the hills were clad in snow
It was over hills and valleys my true love he did go
It was there I spied a pretty fair maid with the salt tear in her eye
She had a baby in her arms and bitter she did cry
Oh cruel was my father who barred the door on me
And cruel was my mother this dreadful sight to see
And cruel was my own true love who changed his mind for gold
And cruel was the winter's night that pierced my heart with cold
For the higher up the pine-tree grows the sweeter is the bark
And the fairer that a young man speaks the falser is his heart
He will kiss you and embrace you till they thinks he has you won
Then he'll go away and leave you all for some other one
So come all you pretty fair young maids, a warning take by me
And never try and build your nest at the top of a high tree
For the leaves they all will wither and the branches will decay
And the beauty of a fine young man will all soon fade away
(as sung by Frankie Armstrong)