Lass of the Low Country

Oh, she was a lass from the low country

And he was a Lord of high degree

But she loved him oh so tenderly

Oh sorrow, sing sorrow

Now she sleeps in the valley where the wildflowers nod

No one knows how she loved him but herself and god

One day when the snow was on the mead

She passed him by on a milk white steed

And she spoke to him low, nobody paid no heed

Oh sorrow, sing sorrow

Now she sleeps in the valley where the wildflowers nod

No one knows how she loved him but herself and god

Now if you be a lass from the low country

Don't love no man of high degree

For he don't got a heart or no sympathy

Oh sorrow, sing sorrow

Now she sleeps in the valley where wildflowers nod

No one knows how she loved him but herself and god