Lass of The Low Country

Traditional

Oh she was a lass from the low country
And he was a lord of high degree
But she loved him oh so tenderly
Oh sorrow sing sorrow
Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod
No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god

One day when the snow was on the mead
He passed her by on his milk white steed
And she spoke to him low but he paid no need
Oh sorrow sing sorrow
Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod
No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god

Now if you be a lass from the low country
Don't love no man of high degree
For he don't got a heart or no sympathy
Oh sorrow sing sorrow
Now she sleeps in the valley where wild flowers nod
No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god