“. . . .”
I sowed the seeds of love
and I sowed them in the spring,
in April and in May time
when the small birds do sing.
In June is the red rose bud
and that’s the flower for me.
I pulled and plucked at the red rose bud
till I gained the willow tree.
For the willow tree will twist
and the willow tree will twine.
I wish I was in a young man’s arms
who had this heart of mine.
My gardener he stood by
and told me to take good care,
for in the middle of the red rose bud
there grew a sharp thorn there.
I told him I’d take no care
until I felt the smart,
for I pulled and plucked at the red rose bud
till it pierced me to my heart.
—British Folk Song
. . . .