The fields were green, the hills were gay
And birds were singing on each spray
When Colin met me in the grove,
And told me tender tales of love.
Was ever swain so blithe as he?
So kind, so faithful and so free?
In spite of all my friends could say,
Young Colin stole my heart away.

Whene'er he trips the meads along
He sweetly joins the wood-lark's song
And when he dances on the green
There's none so blithe as Colin seen.
If he's but by I nothing fear
For I alone am all his care.
In spite of all my friends could say
He's stole my tender heart away.

My mother chides whene'er I roam
And seems surpris'd I quit my home
But she'd not wonder why I rove
Did she but feel how much I love.
Full well I know the generous swain
Will never give my bosom pain,
Then spite of all my friends could say
He's stole my tender heart away.

Henry