O there was a woman, and she was a widow,
 Fair are the flowers in the valley.
With a daughter as fair as a fresh sunny meadow.
 The Red, the Green and the Yellow.
The Harp, the Lute, the Pipe, the Flute, the Cymbal,
 Sweet goes the treble Violin.
The maid so rare and the flowers so fair
 Together they grew in the valley.

There came a Knight all clothed in red,
 Fair are the flowers in the valley.
"I would thou wert my bride", he said.
 The Red, the Green and the Yellow.
The Harp, the Lute, the Pipe, the Flute, the Cymbal,
 Sweet goes the treble Violin.
"I would", she sighed, "never wins a bride!"
 Fair are the flowers in the valley.

There came a Knight all clothed in green,
 Fair are the flowers in the valley.
"This maid so sweet might be my queen".
 The Red, the Green and the Yellow.
The Harp, the Lute, the Pipe, the Flute, the Cymbal,
 Sweet goes the treble Violin.
"Might be", sighed she, "will never win me!"
 Fair are the flowers in the valley.

There came a Knight, in yellow was he,
 Fair are the flowers in the valley.
"My bride, my queen, thou must with me!"
 The Red, the Green and the Yellow.
The Harp, the Lute, the Pipe, the Flute, the Cymbal,
 Sweet goes the treble Violin.
With blushes red, "I come", she said;
 "Farewell to the flowers in the valley."