Poor little turtle dove, sitting in a vine
Mourning for his own true love
So why not me for mine, for mine
So why not me for mine?
I’m not going to marry in the fall
I’m going to marry in the spring
I’m going to marry a pretty little girl
Who wears a big gold ring, gold ring
Who wears a big gold ring
I've got hogs in the pen, corn to feed them on
All I want is a pretty little girl
To feed them when I’m gone, I'm gone
To feed them when I’m gone
I went up on the mountain to give my horn a blow
Every girl in the countryside
Said, “Yonder comes by beau, my beau
Yonder comes my bеau”
Poor little turtle dove, sitting in a vinе
Mourning for his own true love
So why not me for mine, for mine
So why not me for mine?