Caroline Lavelle
Caroline Lavelle
Caroline Lavelle
Caroline Lavelle
Caroline Lavelle
Caroline Lavelle
Caroline Lavelle
Caroline Lavelle
Caroline Lavelle
Caroline Lavelle
Caroline Lavelle
Caroline Lavelle
The trees they do grow high
And the trees they do grow green
But the days have gone and passed my love
That thou and I were seen
It's a cold winter's night my love
It's now that I must lie alone:
My bonny boy you were young, but a-growing
Oh father dearest father
I fear you've done me harm
For you've married me to a bonny lad
But you know he is too young
Oh daughter dearest daughter
If you will stay at home with me
A lady you shall be while he's growing
We'll send him to the college
For one year or two
And then perhaps in time my love
A man he'll make for you
I'll buy you white ribbons
To tie around his bonny waist
To let the ladies know that he's married
At the age of sixteen
He was a married man
At the age of seventeen
He was the father of a son;
At the age of eighteen my love
His grave it was a-growing green
And death had put an end to his growing
I made my love a shroud
Of the holland o-so fine
And every stitch I put in it
The tears they did run down;
Oh once I had a sweetheart
But now he's lying in the ground
But I'll nurse his bonny boy while he's growing
O now my love is dead
And in his grave doth lie
The green grass that covers him
It groweth up so high;
O once a had a sweetheart
But now I have got ne'er a one;
So fare thee well my own true love for ever
The Trees They Do Grow High was written by Traditional.