The Willow Tree (England) [arr. N.P. Newerkla]

O take me to your arms, love

For keen doth the wind blow

O take me to your arms, love

For bitter is my deep woe

She hears me not, she heeds me not

Nor will she listen to me

While here I lie alone

To die beneath the willow tree

My love hath wealth and beauty

Rich suitors attend her door

My love hath wealth and beauty

She slights me because I am poor

The ribbon fair that bound her hair

Is all that is left to me

While here I lie alone

To die beneath the willow tree

I once had gold and silver

I thought them without end

I once had gold and silver

I thought I had a true friend

My wealth is lost, my friend is false

My love hath he stolen from me

While here I lie alone

To die beneath the willow tree