She's like the swallow that flies so high,
Like the river that never runs dry,
Like the sunshine on the lee shore.
She lost her love and love is no more.
Twas down in the garden this fair maid did go,
Plucking the beautiful primrose.
The more she plucked the more she pulled,
Until she gathered her apron full.
She climbed on yonder hill above,
To give a rose unto her love.
She gave him one, she gave him three.
She gave her heart in company.
But as they sat on yonder hill,
His heart grew hard, so harder still.
He has two hearts instead of one.
She cried, "Young man. what have you done?"
"For when I carried my apron low,
You followed me through frost and snow,
But now my apron is to my chin,
You pass my door and won’t call in."
It's out of those roses she made a bed,
A stony pillow for her head.
She laid her down, no word she spoke,
Until this fair maid's heart was broke.