Caroline Lavelle - The Trees They Do Grow High Lyrics

The trees they do grow high
& the trees they do grow green
But the days have gone & passed my love
That thou & 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 boy
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
& 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
& the trees they do grow green
But the days have gone & passed my love
That thou & 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 boy
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
& 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