I sow'd the seeds of love,
And I sow'd them in the spring;
I gather'd them up in the morning so soon,
When small birds sweetly sing.

My garden was planted well
With flowers ev'ry where,
But I had not the liberty to choose
The flow'r that I lov'd so dear.

The gard'ner standing by,
I asked him to choose for me;
He chose the Violet, the Lily, the Pink,
But these I refused all three.

The Violet I did not like
Because it fades so soon;
The Lily and Pink I did over think
And vow'd I would wait till June.

In June is a red, red Rose;
And that is the flow'r for me;
I'll pluck it and think that no Lily nor Pink
Can match with the bud on that tree.