Lass From the Low Country (traditional)

For she was a lass from the low country
And he was a lord of high degree
And she loved his lordship so tenderly

  Oh sorrow, sing sorrow
  Now she sleeps in the valley
  Where the wildflowers nod
  And no one knows she loved him
  But herself and God

One day when the snow was on the mead
He passed her by on a milk white steed
She spoke to him low but he paid no heed

  Oh sorrow, sing sorrow
  Now she sleeps in the valley
  Where the wildflowers nod
  And no one knows she loved him
  But herself and God

So if you be a lass from the low country
Don't love you no lord of high degree
For they have no love or sympathy

  Oh sorrow, sing sorrow
  Now he sleeps in the valley
  Where the wildflowers nod
  And no one knew she loved him
  But herself and God