Down in some lone valley, in a lonesome place where the wild birds do whistle and their

wings are so thin, so I bid you adieu, and I'll dream of pretty Sarah wherever I go.

My love, she won't have me, so I understand. She wants a freeholder who owns house and land.

I cannot maintain her with silver and gold, nor buy all the fine things that a big house can grow.

If I were a merchant and could write a fine hand, I'd write my love a letter that she'd understand.

I'd rather live by the river where the waters are flow, but I'll dream of pretty Sarah wherever I go.