Blome, blome swete lilie flour
The brown bird sings his melodie
Blome, blome swete lilie flour
I go to see St. Mary
Hold, hold my hand in yours
Hold, hold my hand
Cold, cold the night has grown
No coin to pay the ferry
Hold, hold my hand, dear love
Hold, hold my hand
Cold, cold the night has grown
No coin to ease my wandering
Blome, blome swete lilie flour
The brown bird chirps his melodie
Blome, blome swete lilie flour
I go to see St. Mary
