Томас Джон Дибдин (Thomas John Dibdin)

The Willow Tree

OH! take me to your arms, my love,
⁠     For keen the wind doth blow:
Oh! take me to your arms, my love,
     ⁠For bitter is my woe!
She hears me not, she cares not,
     ⁠Nor will she list to me;
While here I lie, in misery,
     ⁠Beneath the Willow Tree.

My love has wealth and beauty—
⁠     The rich attend her door
My love has wealth and beauty,
     ⁠And I, alas, am poor!
The ribband fair, that bound her hair,
⁠     Is all that's left to me;
While here I lie, in misery,
⁠     Beneath the Willow Tree.

I once had gold and silver—
     ⁠I thought them without end:
I once had gold and silver,
⁠     And I thought I had a friend!
My wealth is lost—my friend is false—
⁠     My love he stole from me;
While here I lie, alone to die,
     ⁠Beneath the Willow Tree. 

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