come all ye fair and tender ladies
take warning how you court young men
they're like a star on a summer's morning
they first appear and then they're gone
they'll tell to you some flattering story
and swear to god that they love you well
and away they'll go and court some other
and leave you here in grief to dwell
i wish i was some tall mountain
where the ivy rock is black as ink
i would write a letter to my false lover
whose cheeks are like the morning pink
i wish i was some little sparrow
and one of them that could fly so high
i would fly away to my true love's dwelling
and when he would speak i would be close by
but i am none of those little sparrows
or none of those that fly so high
so i'll sit down in grief and sorrow
and pass all my troubles by
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