She is like the swallow that flies on high
She is like the river that never runs dry
She is like the sun a'beaming on the lee shore
I love my love, but love is no more
A maiden into her garden did go
For to pluck her some wild primrose
The more she plucked, the more she did pull
Until this maiden's apron was full
Then out of these roses she made a bed
A scarlet pillow for her head
She laid her down, no word she did speak
And then this maiden's heart, it did break
She is like the swallow that flies on high
She is like the river that never runs dry
She is like the sun a'beaming on the lee shore
I love my love, but love is no more
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