Shady grove/The unfortunate swain

The UNFORTUNATE SWAIN.

DOWN in a meadow fresh and gay,
Plucking a flow'r the other day,
Plucking a flow'r both red and blue,
I little thought what love could do.

⁠Where love is planted there it grows.
It buds and blossoms like any rose,
And has so sweet and a pleasant smell,
No flow'r on earth can it excel

⁠Must I be bound and she be free?
Must I love one that loves not me?
Why should I act such a childish part,
To love a girl that will break my heart?

⁠There's thousands, thousands in a room,
My true love carries the highest bloom,
Surely she is some chosen one,
I will have her, or l will have none.

⁠I spy'd a ship sailing on-the sea,
Laden as deep as she could be,
But not so deep as in love I am,
I care not whether I sink or swim.

⁠I set my back against an oak,
I thought had been a trusty tree,
But first it bow'd and then it broke,
And so did my false love to me.

⁠I put my hand into the bush,
Thinking the sweetest rose to find,
I prick'd my finger to the bone,
And left the sweetest rose behind.

⁠If roses are such prickly flowers,
They're to be gather'd while they are green,
And he that loves an unkind lover,
I’m sure he strives against the stream.

⁠When my love is dead and at her rest,
I'll think on her whom I love best,
To wrap her up in the linen strong,
And think on her when she's dead & gone.