Lass of the Low Country

Oh she was a lass from the low country

And he was a lord of high degree

But she loved him oh so tenderly

Oh sorrow sing sorrow

Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod

No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god

One day when the snow was on the mead

She passed him by on a milk white steed

And she spoke to him low nobody paid no need

Oh sorrow sing sorrow

Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod

No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god

Now if you be a lass from the low country

Don't love no man of high degree

For he don't got a heart or no sympathy

Oh sorrow sing sorrow

Now she sleeps in the valley where wild flowers nod

No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god