When I was in my prime
I flourished like a vine
Then along came a false young man
He stole away my prime mind

The gardener standing by
Three offers he gave me
The pink, violet and red rose
Which I refused all three

The pink’s no flower at all
It fades away too soon
Violet is too pale blue
I thought I’d wait till June

In June the red rose blooms
But that’s no flower for me
For then I’ll pluck the red rose off
And plant a willow tree

The willow tree will twist
Thе willow tree twine
I wish I was in the young man’s arms
The onе, the love of mine mine