He’s like the swallow that flies so high
He’s like the river that never runs dry
He’s like the sunshine on the lee shore
He was my love, my love is no more
He was my love, my love is no more

Out in the garden, this fair man did go a-picking roses
How could he not?
The more he picked and the more he pulled
Until he got his apron full

Out of these roses, he made a bed
A stony pillow, for his head
He laid his head down, no word he spoke
Until this fair mans, heart was broke