She's like the swallow that flies so high,
She's like the river that never runs dry.
She's like the sunshine on the lee shore,
I love my love, and love is no more.
It's out in the garden this fair maid did go,
A-plucking the beautiful prim-a-rose.
The more she plucked, the more she pulled,
Until she got her apron full.
It's out of these roses she made a bed,
A stone, a pillow for her head,
She laid her down, no word she spoke,
Alas, for love, her heart was broke.
She's like the swallow that flies so high,
She's like the river that never runs dry.
She's like the sunshine on the lee shore,
I love my love, and love is no more.