I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more, But dipped its top and set me down again. That would be good both going and coming back. One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet; She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet. She bid metake love easy, asthe leavesgrow on thetree; But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree. In a field by the river my love and I did stand, And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand. She bid metake life easy, as thegrassgrows on the weirs; But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.
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