We met in the spring time when the blossoms unfold
the pastures green and the meadow gold
Our love was in flower as the summer grown
the love like the leaves have all withered and gone
roses have faded and there's frost at my door
the bird of the morning won't sing any more
the grass in the valley is starting to die
and out in the darkness the whipper will cry
alone and forsaken by fate and by man
oh lord, if you hear me take hold of my hand
where has she gone to, where can she be
