Woods of Birnam - The Willow Song Lyrics

The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
Sing all a green willow - willow
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing all a green willow – willow
Must be my garland.

The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans.
Sing willow – willow - willow
Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones.
Sing all a green willow – willow
Must be my garland.

I call'd my love false love;
But what said he then?
Sing willow, willow, willow:

If I court more women, you'll couch with more men!
Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve,-
Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve.