She Is Like the Swallow - Lucia Micarelli, Leigh Nash

She’s like the swallow that flies on high

She’s like the river that never runs dry

She’s like the sun beaming on the lea shore

I love my love, but love is no more

A maiden into her garden did go

For to pluck her some wild primrose

The more she plucked, the more she did pull

Until this maiden’s apron was full

Then out of these roses she made a bed

A scarlet pillow for her head

She laid her down, no words she did speak

And then this maiden’s heart, it did break

She’s like the swallow that flies on high

She’s like the river that never runs dry

She’s like the sun beaming on the lea shore

I love my love, but love is no more