Like the Swallow

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 lea-shore,

I love my love, and love is no more.

It's out of roses

she made her bed.

A stolen pillow

for her head.

She's like the sunshine on the lea-shore,

I love my love, and love is no more.