I love thee, more than the meadow where the grass is so still More than the mulberries on the hill More than the buds on a mayapple tree, I love thee Arms have I, strong as the oak, for this occasion Lips have I, to kiss thee sweet, in friendly persuasion Thee is mine, though I don't know many words of praise Thee pleasures me in a hundred ways I have on my bonnet, my cape, and my gloves And I'll go with thee, for thee I love