My Friend and Pitcher/Blythesome Sally
For other versions of this work, see Lilies of the Valley.
LILLIES OF THE VALLEY.
O'er barren hills and flow'ry dales.O'er seas and distant shores,With merry songs and jocund tales,I've pass'd some pleasant hours:Tho' wand'ring thus, I ne'er could find,A girl like blythesome Sally;
Who picks, and culls and cries aloud,'Sweet lillies of the valley.'
From whistling o'er the harrow'd turf,From nestling of each tree,I chose a soldier's life to wed,So social, gay, and free:Yet tho' the lasses love me well,And often try to rally,None pleases me like her who cries'Sweet lillies 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 pleas'd,So I possess my Sally,That little merry nymph who cries'Sweet lillies of the valley.'