There once was a la** from the low country.
She loved her a lord of high degree.
She lover her lordship so tenderly.
Sing sorrow, sing sorrow,
Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod.
No one knows she loved him but herself and God. One day when the sun was on the mead
He pa**ed her doorstep on a milk white steed.
She smiled and she spoke, but he paid no heed.
Sing sorrow, sing sorrow,
Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod.
No one knows she loved him but herself and God. So if you be a la** from the low country,
Don't love you no lord of high degree.
They ain't got no heart and no sympathy.
Sing sorrow, sing sorrow,
Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod.
No one knows she loved him but herself and God.