The Lass From The Low Countree - Odetta
She was a lass of the low country
And he was a lad of a high degree
She loved his lordship so tenderly
Sing sorrow
Sing sorrow
For she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod
Nobody knows she loved him
Save herself and God
One day when the sun was over the mead
He passed her on a milk white stead
She waved as he passed
But he paid not heed
Sing sorrow
Sing sorrow
For she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod
Nobody knows she loved him
Save herself and God
If you be a lass of the low country
Don't love a Lord of a high degree
He ain't got no heart and no sympathy
Sing sorrow
Sing sorrow
For she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod
And nobody knows she loved him
Save herself and God
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★ The Lass From The Low Countree
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