Roger Whittaker
Roger Whittaker
Roger Whittaker
Roger Whittaker
Roger Whittaker
Roger Whittaker
Roger Whittaker
Roger Whittaker
Roger Whittaker
Early one morning, just as the sun was rising
I heard a maid sing in the valley below
"Oh don't deceive me, Oh never leave me
How could you use, a poor maiden so?"
Remember the vows that you made to me truly
Remember how tenderly you nestled close to me
Gay is the garland, fresh are the roses
I've culled from the garden to bind over thee
Here I now wander alone as I wonder
Why did you leave me to sigh and complain
I ask of the roses, why should I be forsaken
Why must I here in sorrow remain?
Through yonder grove, by the spring that is running
There you and I have so merrily played
Kissing and courting and gently sporting
Oh, my innocent heart you've betrayed
How could you slight so a pretty girl who loves you
A pretty girl who loves you so dearly and warm?
Though love's folly is surely but a fancy
Still it should prove to me sweeter than your scorn
Soon you will meet with another pretty maiden
Some pretty maiden, you'll court her for a while;
Thus ever ranging, turning and changing
Always seeking for a girl that is new
Thus sang the maiden, her sorrows bewailing
Thus sang the poor maid in the valley below
"Oh don't deceive me, Oh never leave me
How could you use, a poor maiden so?"