The turtle-dove coos round my cot

Swift flew the day and merry passed the hours

While o'er the broom my love and I did stray;

Bright seemed the sun, more fragrant were the flowers,

Ere my sweet William left his native home.

The turtle-dove cooes round my cot,

Murm'ring for her absent dear,

With her I mourn my widowed lot

For my dear William is not here.

To guard his native home from harm

Far o'er the salt seas roams my dear,

And nature's sweets no more can charm,

For my dear William is not here.