lass of the low country

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

she passed him by on a milk white steed

and she spoke to him low nobody 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