Willie.

Oh they say it is sinful to flirt,

And they say that my heart is a stone;

They tell me to speak to him kindly

Or else leave the poor boy alone.



They say he is only a boy,

But I’m sure he’s much older than I

And if they would leave us alone

I’m sure we’d much happier  be.



I remember the night that he said

That he loved my more than his life.

He called me his darling,his pet,

And asked me to be his wife.



Willie,”I said with a smile,

I am sure I will aave to say no.”

He took a white ros e from my hair,

And said, “Good bye,I must go.”



Next morning poor Willie was dead;

He was drowned in the pond by the mill,

In the pure flowing waters so clear,

That flow  from the brink of the hill.



His eyes were forevermore closed, 

And damp was his bright golden hair,

And close to his pale lips he held

The white rose he took from my hair.