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Can you tell me what happened to the blossom
Blackberry blossom when the summertime came?
The blackberry blossom, oh the last time I saw one
Was down in the bramble where I rambled in the spring

The bramble was wild I was torn by the briars
My love he wooed me as I lie there
With a flower in my hair and my cheeks all flashy
Was the blackberry blossom from the blackberry bush?

When I picked the berry I didn't miss the blossom
The blackberry blossom was white as the snow
But the berry that it brings is sweeter than molasses
And black as the wings of the Arkansas crow

The Arkansas crow is a devil and a demon
Known for his cackling and his screaming
Driving away the swallow and the thrush
From the blackberry blossom and the blackberry bush

I was picking berries when that crow flew above me
Carrying my lover so far away
Now each spring I lay a blackberry blossom
By a cold gravestone on the Arkansas clay

The Arkansas clay is rocky and hard
With weeds growing over in the old graveyard
And the day settles down to an evening hush
Over the blackberry blossom and the blackberry bush
Can you tell me what happened to the blossom   Blackberry blossom when the summertime came?   The blackberry blossom, oh the last time I saw one   Was down in the bramble where I rambled in the spring      The bramble was wild I was torn by the briars   My love he wooed me as I lie there   With a flower in my hair and my cheeks all flashy   Was the blackberry blossom from the blackberry bush?      When I picked the berry I didn't miss the blossom   The blackberry blossom was white as the snow   But the berry that it brings is sweeter than molasses   And black as the wings of the Arkansas crow      The Arkansas crow is a devil and a demon   Known for his cackling and his screaming   Driving away the swallow and the thrush   From the blackberry blossom and the blackberry bush      I was picking berries when that crow flew above me   Carrying my lover so far away   Now each spring I lay a blackberry blossom   By a cold gravestone on the Arkansas clay      The Arkansas clay is rocky and hard   With weeds growing over in the old graveyard   And the day settles down to an evening hush   Over the blackberry blossom and the blackberry bush