The Willow Song

The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree
Sing all a green willow
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee

cho: Sing willow, willow, willow, willow!
Sing willow, willow, willow, willow!
My garland shall be;
Sing all a green willow, willow, willow, willow
Sing all a green willow
My garland shall be.

The fresh streams ran by her, and murmer'd her moans
Sing willow, willow, willow
Her salt tears fell from her and soft'ned the stones.

Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve
Sing willow, willow, willow
He was born to be fair, I to die for his love,

I call'd my love false love but what said he then?
Sing willow, willow, willow
If I court more women, you'll couch with more men.

Note: Desdemona's song from Othello. The earliest copy is in a
lute book dated 1583.
RG