Lass Of The Low Country

Traditional



Oh she was a lass from the low country

And he was a lord of high degree

But she loved him oh so tenderly

Oh sorrow sing sorrow

Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod

No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god



One day when the snow was on the mead

She passed him by on a milk white steed

And she spoke to him low nobody paid no need

Oh sorrow sing sorrow

Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod

No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god



Now if you be a lass from the low country

Don't love no man of high degree

For he don't got a heart or no sympathy

Oh sorrow sing sorrow

Now she sleeps in the valley where wild flowers nod

No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god


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