Traditional      Oh she was a lass from the low country   And he was a lord of high degree   But she loved him oh so tenderly   Oh sorrow sing sorrow   Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod   No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god      One day when the snow was on the mead   She passed him by on a milk white steed   And she spoke to him low nobody paid no need   Oh sorrow sing sorrow   Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod   No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god      Now if you be a lass from the low country   Don't love no man of high degree   For he don't got a heart or no sympathy   Oh sorrow sing sorrow   Now she sleeps in the valley where wild flowers nod   No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god