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The Willow Song The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree Sing all a green willow Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee cho: Sing willow, willow, willow, willow! Sing willow, willow, willow, willow! My garland shall be; Sing all a green willow, willow, willow, willow Sing all a green willow My garland shall be. The fresh streams ran by her, and murmer'd her moans Sing willow, willow, willow Her salt tears fell from her and soft'ned the stones. Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve Sing willow, willow, willow He was born to be fair, I to die for his love, I call'd my love false love but what said he then? Sing willow, willow, willow If I court more women, you'll couch with more men. Note: Desdemona's song from Othello. The earliest copy is in a lute book dated 1583. RG
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!