The water is wide, I cannot get o'er
|
Neither have I wings to fly.
|
Give me a boat that can carry two
|
And both shall row my true love and I
|
|
I lean'd my back against an oak,
|
Thinking it was a trusting tree.
|
But first it bent and then it broke,
|
So did my love prove false to me.
|
|
I put my hand in some soft bush
|
Thinking the sweetest flow'r to find.
|
I prick'd my finger to the bone
|
And left the sweetest flow'r behind.
|
|
But love is gentle and love is kind,
|
the sweetest flower when first it's new
|
But love grows old and waxes cold
|
And fades away like the morning dew.
|
|
-----------------
|
The Water is Wide
|
Joan Baez |