I pull the flax as golden as thy curl,
And sing me of the blossoms blue,
Their promise, like thine eyes to me.
Strumm, strumm!
’Tis such a merry tale I spinn.
Ah, wee one, croon unto the honey bee
Who diggeth at the rose’s heart.
Strumm, strumm!
My wheel shall sing to thee,
Heart-blossom mine. The sunny morn