The Gardener

Proud Margaret stood at her father's doorway

As straight as willow wood

By they came a gardener boy

With a red rose in his hand, his hand

With a red rose in his hand

You shall have my rose, fair maiden

If you'll give your flower to me

Among the flowers in your father's garden

I'll make a gown for thee, for thee

I'll make a gown for thee

And it shall be of sweet-smelling thyme

Your apron celandine

Your petticoat of the chamomile

Come kiss, sweetheart, and join, and join

Come kiss, sweetheart, and join

Your glove shall be of the clover flower

Your shoes of the rue, so fine

I'll line them with the cornflower blue

So join your love with mine, with mine

So join your love with mine

Since you have made a gown for me

Among the summer flowers

I will make a suit for thee

Among the winter showers, the showers

Among the winter showers

The milk-white snow will be your shirt

That lines your body next

And night-black rain will be your coat

With a wind gale at your breast, your breast

With a wind gale at your breast

The horse the you shall ride upon

Will be of the wintery gray

And every time that you pass by

I'll wish you were away, away

I'll wish you were away