How many lilies be ablow?
  Count them and see --
Seven by the wall, and seven by the door;
  'Tis time he came to me.
    Oh, love's bitter!

Was ever [a]1 whiter web than this 
  That I spin to-day?
A wedding gown or a winding sheet,
  Love, which shall it be?
    Oh, [love's]1 bitter!

The old dames stand in the street, 
  'Neath the willow trees; 
And they mark how white my lilies blow,
  And they hear my bees.
    Oh, love's bitter! 

And one dame says, "Five lads of mine 
  Be in the sea;"
Another says, "That lad of mine,
  He came not back to me." 
    Oh, love's bitter! 

The willow trees grow down to the wharves, 
  Green as of old; 
(Green as the day he went from me;)
  The sea is of gold.
    Oh, love's bitter!

Two ships I see: one in the west --
  Love, is it thine?
One in the east, in a windy mist --
  Oh, love, which is thine?
    [Oh, love's bitter!]1

Then speak the dames: "Her ship went down 
  That night at sea."
My seven white lilies -- do ye hear?
  For this they speak of me!
    Oh, love's bitter.