The trees, they grow high, and the leaves, they do grow green
Many is the time my [bad word] love I've seen
Many an hour I watched him all alone
He's young but he's daily growing

Father, dear father, you've done me great wrong
You have married me to a boy who is too young
I am twice twelve and he is but fourteen
He's young but he's daily growing

Daughter, dear daughter, I've done you no wrong
I have married you to a great lord's son
And he will be a man for you when I am dead and gone
He's young but he's daily growing

Father, dear father, if you see fit
We'll send him to college for another year yet
I'll tie a blue ribbon all around his head
To let the maidens know that he is married

One day I was looking over my father's castle wall
I spied all the boys playing with a ball
And my own [bad word] love, he was the flower of them all
He's young but he's daily growing

And so early in the morning at the dawning of the day
They went into a hayfield for to have some sport and play
And what they did there she never would declare
But she never [bad word] of his growing

At the age of fourteen he was a married man
At the age of fifteen, the father of my son
At the age of sixteen, his grave, it was green
And death had put an end to his growing

I'll buy my love some flannel, I'll make my love a shroud
And every stitch I put in it, the tears, they'll pour down
Amd every stitch I put in it, how the tears, they will flow
 [bad word] fate has put an end to his growing