I sow'd the seeds of love,
And I sowed them in the spring;
I gathered them up in the morning so soon,
When small birds sweetly sing,
When small birds sweetly sing.
My garden was planted well
With flowers everywhere,
But I had not the liberty to choose
The flow'r that I loved so dear,
The flow'r that I loved so dear.
The gard'ner standing by,
I asked him to choose for me;
He chose me the Violet, the Lily, the Pink,
But these I refused all three,
But these I refused all three.
The Violet I did not like
Because it fades so soon;
The Lily and Pink I did over think
And vowed I would wait till June,
And vowed I would wait till June.
In June is a red, red Rose,
And that is the flow'r for me;
I'll pluck it and think that no Lily nor Pink
Can match with the bud on that tree,
Can match with the bud on that tree.
—Hampshire folksong collected by G. B. Gardiner