Classic Poem

My love she was born in the north country wide,
Where's lofty hills and mountains all round on every side;
She's one of the fairest creatures that ever my eyes did see,
She exceeds all the maids in the north country.

My parents separated me and my dear,
Which caused me to weep and shed many a tear;
Asleep I do mourn, and awake I do cry,
And 'tis all for the sake of my darling I die.

Come saddle my horse that I may go ride
In search of my true love, let what will betide.
O'er lofty hills and mountains I'll wander and I'll rove
In quest of my Molly, my own constant love.

My hand is scarce able my pen for to hold,
To write my love's praises in letters of gold;
She's teeth as white as ivory, and eyes as black as sloes,
And she's wounded my poor heart wherever she goes.

Had I all the riches of the African shore,
Or had I all the gold that the misers have in store,
Or had I all the riches that e'er my eyes did see,
I'd part with it all for my love's company.

My love she's as near as the bark to a tree,
My love's she's as sweet as the cinnamon tree;
The top it will wither and the root will decay,
And a pretty maid's beauty it will soon fade away.