And of all Christians’ souls, I pray God. God bye you.
And of all Christians’ souls, I pray God. God bye you.
And we cast away a moan,
God ‘a’ mercy on his soul!
I would give you some violets, but they wither’d all when my father died.
There’s rue for you, and here’s some for me; we may call it herb of grace a’ Sundays. O, you must wear your rue with a difference.
They say the owl was a baker’s daughter.
There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray,
Love, remember: and there is pansies, that’s for thoughts.
To-morrow is Saint Valentine’s day,
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.