Down by the Salley Gardens my love and I did meet; She passed the Salley Gardens with little snow-white feet. She bid me take [love]1 easy, as the leaves grow on the [tree]2; But I, being young and foolish, with her [did]3 not agree. In a field by the river my love and I did stand, And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand. She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs; But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.
Song Cycle by Samuel Hans Adler (b. 1928)
1. But I was young and foolish  [sung text not yet checked]
- by William Butler Yeats (1865 - 1939), title 1: "An old song re-sung", title 2: "Down by the Salley Gardens", appears in The Wanderings of Oisin and Other Poems, first published 1889 [author's text checked 2 times against a primary source]
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRI Frisian (Geart van der Meer) , "Bij de marswâl", copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Sharon Krebs) , copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Retitled "Down by the Salley Gardens" with the subtitle "An old song re-sung" when republished in Poems in 1895.
Note: "salley" is an anglicized form of the Irish word "saileach", which means willow.1 Gurney: "life"
2 Edmunds: "trees"
3 Edmunds, Gurney: "would"
Researcher for this text: Ted Perry
2. Old age  [sung text not yet checked]
— This text is not currently
in the database but will be added
as soon as we obtain it. —
3. Time, you old gypsy man  [sung text not yet checked]
Time, you old gypsy man, Will you not stay Put up your caravan just for one day ? All things I'll give you Will you be my guest, Bells for your jennet, Of silver the best. Goldsmiths shall beat you A great golden rings, Peacocks shall bow to you, Little boys sing, Oh, and sweet girls will Festoon you with may. Time, you old gypsy, Why hasten away? Last week in Babylon, last night in Rome, Morning, and in the crush Under Paul's dome; under Paul's dial You tighten your rein- Only a moment, And off once again; Off to some city Now blind in the womb, Off to another Ere that's in the tomb. Time, you old gypsy man, Will you not stay, Put up your caravan Just for one day ?
- by Ralph Hodgson (1871 - 1962), "Time, you old gypsy man", first published 1917? [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]