(traditional)
Down in some lone valley in a lonesome place
Where the wild birds do whistle and their notes do increase
Farewell Pretty Saro. I'll bid you adieu
And I'll think of pretty Saro wherever I go.
My love will not have me and I understand.
She wants a freeholder and I have no land.
I cannot maintain her, I've no silver, no gold.
I can't buy her the nice things that a big house can hold.
If I were a merchant and could write a line hand.
I'd write my love a letter so that she'd understand,
I'd go down by the river where the waters do flow.
And I'd think of pretty Saro wherever I go.
