The trees they grow tall, the gra** is growing green; Many a cold and winter night that I alone have been. It is a cold and cruel night when I must lie alone, The Bonny Boy is young, but he is growing. Oh! father, dear father I think you done me wrong To go and get me married to one who is so young. For he is only sixteen years and I am twenty-one. The bonny boy is young but he's growing. Oh! daughter, dear daughter, I did not do you wrong For I have married you to a rich man's son And he shall be a match for thee when I am dead and gone. He is young, but he is daily growing. Oh! father, dear father, I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll send the boy to college for another year or two; And all around his college cap, I'll bind a ribbon blue, For to let the ladies know that he's married. A year it went by and I pa**ed the college wall And saw the young collegians a-playing at the ball; Amidst them was my own true love, the fairest of them all, He was young but he was daily growing. At the age of sixteen he was a married man, And at the age of seventeen he was the father of a son, At the age of eighteen, his grave had all grown green; And the d**h put an end to his growing. I'll make my love a shroud of ornamental brown; And whilst I am a making it, the tears they will run down; For once I had my own love, now he's lying low, And I'll nurse his bonny boy while he's growing.