Thou will come no more, gentle Annie,
Like a flower thy spirit did depart;
Thou art gone, alas! like the many
That have bloomed in the summer of my heart.
Chorus
Shall we never more be hold thee;
never hear thy winning voice again
When the Spring time comes, gentle Annie,
When the wild flowers are scattered o`er the plain?
We have roamed and loved mid the bowers
When thy downy cheeks in their bloom;
Now I stand alone mid the flowers
While they mingle their perfumes o`er thy tomb.
Ah! the hours grow sad while I ponder
Near the silent spot where thou art laid,
And my heart bows down when I wander
By the streams and the meadows where we strayed.
Like a flower thy spirit did depart;
Thou art gone, alas! like the many
That have bloomed in the summer of my heart.
Chorus
Shall we never more be hold thee;
never hear thy winning voice again
When the Spring time comes, gentle Annie,
When the wild flowers are scattered o`er the plain?
We have roamed and loved mid the bowers
When thy downy cheeks in their bloom;
Now I stand alone mid the flowers
While they mingle their perfumes o`er thy tomb.
Ah! the hours grow sad while I ponder
Near the silent spot where thou art laid,
And my heart bows down when I wander
By the streams and the meadows where we strayed.