The Month of January

It was in the month of January

All in the frost and snow

When through the hills and valleys

My true love she did go

It was there I spied a pretty young girl

With a salt tear in her eye

She held a baby in her arms

And bitterly she did cry

Saying, "Cruel was my father

Who barred the door on me

And cruel was my mother

A dreadful crime to see

Cruel was my own true love

Who changed his love for gold

And cruel were the wintery winds

That pierced my heart with cold

For the taller that a pine tree grows

The sweeter is the bark

And the fairer that a young man speaks

The falser is his heart

For they'll kiss you and caress you

'Til they think they have you won

Then they'll go away and leave you

All for some other one"

So can all you pretty fair young maids

A warning take by me

And never try and build your nest

On the top of any tall tree

For the green leaves they will wither

And the roots they will decay

And the blushes of a false young man

Will soon all fade away