The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree
Sing all a-green willow
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee
Willow, willow, willow
Willow, willow, willow
Fresh streams ran by her and murmured her moans
Sing all a green willow
Her salt tears fell from her and softened the stones
Willow, willow, willow
Willow, willow, willow