Green grows the willow
G. Chadwick
O I love my love the best,
Green grows the willow,
With the gold cross on her breast
Lying down to take her rest,
On her green turf pillow.
Calm she looks nor shy nor bold,
Green grows the willow;
When mine eyes pierce the green mould
Where she lies in the white robes stoled
On her green turf pillow.
Calm she looks and very fair,
Green grows the willow,
With the grass roots in her hair
O my love is constant there
On her green turf pillow.
False was she that now is kind,
Green grows the willow,
Blows it east or western wind
Nothing now can change her mind
On her green turf pillow.
Living we were sundered wide,
Green grows the willow,
Dead shall nothing us divide
When we two sleep side by side
On our green turf pillow.