Green Grows the
Laurel
This version is
collated from English collections.
The tune is from Yorkshire, England.
When first in this country, a stranger, I came,
In fair Dublin city, that place of great fame,
It was my misfortune a fair one to see,
It was the beginning of my misery.
Green grows the laurel
and sweet falls the dew,
Sorry I was when I
parted from you,
But by our next
meeting I hope you'll prove true,
And we'll love one
another, as lovers should do.
If I were a clerk and could handle a pen,
I would write my love a letter, to her I would send,
Saying, Keep your own love, dear, and I will keep
mine,
Write to your sweetheart, and I'll write to mine.
Green grow the rushes
and the tops of them small,
And love is a thing
that can conquer us all.
The tulip may wellow,
it may fade and die soon,
But the red rose will
flourish in the sweet month of June.
O can't you love little, o can't you love long,
Can't you love a new love till your old one returns,
Can't you say that you love him, his mind for to
ease,
And when his back's turned, can't you love who you
please ?
Green grows the laurel
and sweet falls the dew,
Sorry I was when I
parted from you,
But by our next
meeting I hope you'll prove true,
And we'll love one
another, as lovers should do.
And sometimes I wonder why women love men,
And oft-times I wonder why they love them,
Women are faithful and kind, don’t you know,
While men are deceitful wherever they go.
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