She's like the swallow that flies on high She's like the river that never runs dry She's like the sun beaming on the lea shore I love my love, but love is no more A maiden into her garden did go For to pluck her some wild primrose The more she plucked, the more she did pull Until this maiden's apron was full Then out of these roses she made a bed A scarlet pillow for her head She laid her down, no words she did speak And then this maiden's heart, it did break She's like the swallow that flies on high She's like the river that never runs dry She's like the sun beaming on the lea shore I love my love, but love is no more 1