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Traditional Oh she was a lass from the low country And he was a lord of high degree But she loved him oh so tenderly Oh sorrow sing sorrow Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god One day when the snow was on the mead He passed her by on his milk white steed And she spoke to him low but he paid no need Oh sorrow sing sorrow Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god Now if you be a lass from the low country Don't love no man of high degree For he don't got a heart or no sympathy Oh sorrow sing sorrow Now she sleeps in the valley where wild flowers nod No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god