Green Grows the Laurel Songtext

von Greg Brown

When first in this country, a stranger, I came,
In fair Dublin city, that place of great fame,
It was my misfortune a fair one to see,
It was the beginning of my misery.

Green grows the laurel and sweet falls the dew,
Sorry I was when I parted from you,
But by our next meeting I hope you'll prove true,
And we'll love one another, as lovers should do.

If I were a clerk and could handle a pen,
I would write my love a letter, to her I would send,
Saying, Keep your own love, dear, and I will keep mine,
Write to your sweetheart, and I'll write to mine.

Green grow the rushes and the tops of them small,
And love is a thing that can conquer us all.
The tulip may wellow, it may fade and die soon,
But the red rose will flourish in the sweet month of June.

O can't you love little, o can't you love long,
Can't you love a new love till your old one returns,
Can't you say that you love him, his mind for to ease,
And when his back's turned, can't you love who you please?

Green grows the laurel and sweet falls the dew,
Sorry I was when I parted from you,
But by our next meeting I hope you'll prove true,
And we'll love one another, as lovers should do.