Early one morning, just as the sun was rising,
I heard a maid sing in the valley below,
""Oh don't deceive me, Oh never leave me,
How could you use a poor maiden so?""

Remember the vows that you made to your Mary,
Remember the bower where you vowed to be true.

O gay is the garland, and fresh are the roses
I've culled from the garden to bind on thy brow.

Thus sang the poor maiden, her sorrows bewailing,
Thus sang the poor maid in the valley below.

England, arr. Alexander L'Estrange