Irish Song Lyrics 
from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
THE BANKS OF THE SWEET PRIMEROSES 
As I roved out one mid summer morning To view the fields and to take the air 'Twas down by the banks of the sweet primeroses There I beheld a most lovely fair 
Says I "Fair maid where can you be a going And what's the occasion of all your grief I will make you happy as any lady, If you will grant me one small relief" 
Stand up, stand up, you false deciever You are a false deceitful man 'tis plain 'Tis you that is causing my poor heart to wander And to give me comfort 'tis all in vain 
Now I'll go wild down to some lonesome valley Where no man on earth shall ever me find Where the pretty small birds do change their voices And every moment blows blustrous