Part 2 / Book 7 — 156. The Trees So High

I All the trees they are so high, The leaves they are so green, The day is past and gone, sweet-heart, That you and I have seen. It is cold winter’s night, You and I must bide alone: Whilst my pretty lad is young And is growing. II In a garden as I walked, I heard them laugh and call; There were four and twenty playing there, They played with bat and ball. O the rain on the roof, Here and I must make my moan: Whilst my pretty lad is young And is growing. III I listen’d in the garden, I lookèd o’er the wall; ‘Midst five and twenty gallants there My love exceeded all. O the wind on the thatch, Here and I alone must weep: Whilst my pretty lad is young And is growing. IV O father, father dear, Great wrong to me is done. That I should married be this day, Before the set of sun. At the huffle of the gale, Here I toss and cannot sleep: Whilst my pretty lad is young And is growing. V My daughter, daughter dear, If better be, more fit, I’ll send him to the court awhile, To point his pretty wit. But the snow, snowflakes fall, O and I am chill as dead: Whilst my pretty lad is young And is growing. VI To let the lovely ladies know They may not touch and taste, I’ll bind a bunch of ribbons red About his little waist. But the raven hoarsely croaks, And I shiver in my bed; Whilst my pretty lad is young And is growing. VII I married was, alas, A lady high to be, In court and stall and stately hall, And bower of tapestry. But the bell did only knell, And I shuddered as one cold: When I wed the pretty lad Not done growing. VIII At fourteen he wedded was, A father at fifteen, At sixteen ’s face was white as milk, And then his grave was green; And the daisies were outspread, And buttercups of gold, O’er my pretty lad so young Now ceased growing.