Lilies of the Valley (1825, Stirling)/Lilies of the Valley
For other versions of this work, see Lilies of the Valley.
LILIES OF THE VALLEY.
O'er barren hills and flowery dalesO'er seas and distant shoresWith merry songs and jocund tales,I've pass'd some pleasant hours,Tho' wandering thus, I ne'er could findA girl like blithesome SallyWho picks and culls and cries aloud,"Sweet lilies of the valley."
From whistling o'er the harrowed turf,From nestling of each treeI chose a soldier's life to wed,So gay and freeYet tho' the lasses love me well,And often try to rally.None pleases me like her who cries,"Sweet lilies of the valley."
I'm now return'd of late discharg'd,To see my native soil;From fighting in my country's cause,To plough my country's soil: I care not which with either pleased,So I possess my SallyThat little merry nymph, who cries,"Sweet lilies of the valley."