When I was in my prime, I flourished like a vine
Along there came a false young man, come stole the heart of mine
Come stole the heart of mine

The gardener standing by, three offers he made me
The pink, the violet, and red rose, which I refused all three
Which I refused all three

The pink's no flower at all, it fades away too soon
The violet is too pale a bloom, I think I'll wait till June
I think I'll wait till June

In June the red rose blooms, but it's not the flower for me
It's then I'll uproot the red, red rose, and plant a willow tree
And plant a willow tree

And the willow tree shall weep and the willow tree shall mourn
How I wish I were in my young man's arms who stole the heart of mine
Who stole the heart of mine

And if I'm spared young year more, and if God should grant me grace
I'll weep a bowl of crystal tears, and wash his deceitful face
And wash his deceitful face