When I was in my prime
When I was in my prime
I flourished like the vine
There came along a tall young man
Who stole this heart of mine.
The gardener standing by
Three offers he made to me:
The pink, the violet and red rose
And I refused all three.
The pink's no flower at all
For it fades away too soon
And the violet is too pale a hue
I think I'll wait 'til June.
In June the red rose blooms
It's not the flower for me
For then I'll pluck the red rose off
And plant a willow tree.
And the willow tree shall weep
The willow tree shall grow
I wish I were in the young man's arms
For I did love him so.
If I'm spared for one year more
And God should grant me grace
I'll weep a bowl of crystal tears
And wash his handsome face.
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