Brigg Fair

It was on the 5th of August The weather fine and clear Unto Brigg Fair I did repair For love I was inclined I woke up with the lark in the morning With my heart so full of glee On thinking there to meet my dear Long time I wished to see I looked over my left shoulder To see whom I might see And there I spied my own true love Come tripping down to me For its meeting is a pleasure And parting is a grief But an unconstant lover Is worse than any thief Oh the green leaves they shall wither And the branches they shall die If ever I prove false to thee The girl who loves me

Ballad