Four British Folk-songs

Early one morning, just as the sun was rising,
I heard a maid sing in the valley below.
"Oh, don't deceive me, oh, never leave me,
How could you use a [poor]1 maiden so?"

"O gay is the [garland, fresh]2 are the roses
I've culled from the garden to bind on thy brow.
O don't deceive me, O do not leave me!
How could you use a [poor]1 maiden so?

Remember the vows that you [made]3 to your Mary,
Remember the bow'r where you vowed to be true.
"Oh, don't deceive me, oh, never leave me.
How could you use a poor maiden so!"

Thus [sung]4 the poor maiden, her sorrow bewailing,
Thus [sung]4 the poor maid in the valley below;
["O don't deceive me! O do not leave me!]5
How could you use a poor maiden so?"

Vair me o ro van o; 
Vair me o ro ven ee; 
Vair me o ru o ho. 
I am sad without thee.  

When I'm lonely, dear heart, 
Black the night and the sea, 
By love's light my foot finds 
The way to thee.  

Vair me o ro van o; 
Vair me o ro ven ee; 
Vair me o ru o ho. 
Sad I am without thee.  

O music of my heart, 
O harp of joy, 
Moon of guidance by night, 
Strength and light to me.  

Vair me o ro van o; 
Vair me o ro ven ee; 
Vair me o ru o ho. 
I am sad without thee.

O can ye sew cushions and can ye sew sheets,
And can ye sing ballulow when the bairn greets?
And hie and baw, birdie, and hie and baw, lamb,
And hee and baw, birdie, my bonnie wee lamb.

Hie-o, wie-o, what will I do wi' ye?
Black's the life that I lead wi' ye,
Many o' you, little for to gi' ye,
Hie-o, wie-o, what will I do wi' ye?

I've placed my cradle on yon hilly top,
And aye as the wind blew my cradle did rock.
O hush-a-by, babie, O baw lily loo,
And hee and baw, birdie, my bonnie wee doo.

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, 
how can you bloom so fresh and fair? 
How can ye chaunt, ye little birds, 
and I'm so weary, full of care?  
Ye'll break my heart, ye warbling birds  
that wanton on the flow'ry thorn,  
ye mind me o' departed joys,  
departed, never to return.  

Oft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon, 
to see the rose and woodbine twine. 
And ilka bird sang o' its love, 
and fondly sae did I o' mine.  
With lightsome heart I pu'd a rose 
fu' sweet upon its tree. 
But my false lover stole my rose, 
and ah! he left the thorn wi' me.

Du liebe Flur im Seengrund,
warum blühst du so morgenschön?
Du Vogel, sag, was jubelst du,
wenn ich vor Kummer muß vergehn?
Du Sänger hoch im Blütendorn,
mir bricht das Herz dein jauchzend Lied.
Du weckst in mir die frohe Zeit,
die doch für ewig, ewig schied.

Ich lauschte oft im Seengrund
in Lieb und Lust dem Vogelsang,
am Weg, wo Ros' und Rebe wuchs
im Dorngerank sich fest umschlang.
Doch, als ich eine Rose brach
im Wald der Vogel warnend rief.
Falsch Lieb stahl meine Rose mir,
und ließ den Dorn im Herzen tief.