Come hither, oh come hither,
There’s a bride upon her bed;
They have strewn her o’er with roses,
There are roses ‘neath her head:
Life is love and tears and laughter,
But the laughter it is dead--
Sing the way to the Valley, to the Valley--
Hey, but the roses they are red!
THE LILY FLOWER
Oh, love, it is a lily flower,
(Sing, my captain, sing, my lady!)
The sword shall cleave it, Life shall leave it--
Who shall know the hour?
(Sing, my lady, still!)