Words & Music: Tradition, arr. Caroline Lavelle
Ye muses assist me, there is none can resist me
save only that fair one whom I do adore.
And the more that they tease me the more he would please me,
he’ll be my my greenwood laddie til time is no more.
Have you seen my dearest whose eyes shine the clearest,
whose lips like the red blood new dropped in the snow;
he is neat tall and handsome, his arms warm and gentle,
he’ll be my greenwood laddie til time is no more.
My parents my darling, they slight you with scorn
because you have no riches wrapped up in a store.
But the more that they slight you the more I’ll entice you
to be my greenwood laddie til time is no more.
Twas down in yonder bower I spent many hours,
a-plucking wild flowers on yon winding shore;
twas his stolen kisses caused my fondest wishes.
He’ll be my greenwood laddie whom I’d always adore.
If I had the riches of the east or west indies,
or if I had the gold of the African shore,
or if I could gain thousands I would lie in your sweet arms
and you’d be my greenwood laddie til time is no more.