The Maiden's Lament

As I roved out one eve-ning in Spring,
Down by a silent sweet shady grove,
I heard a maiden maken sad lament
She cried, "Alas I have lost my love."

O love is like an unquenching fire,
Like a raging fire it seems to burn
Unto my cold grave I will retire
Unto my friends I will ne'er return.

Come all you fair maids like me a-dying
It's now I'm taking my last farewell,
And all you small birds round me flying
Let your sweet notes be my passing bell.

From Folk Songs of the Americas, Lloyd and Rivera (Canada)
RG