As I, with hopeless love o'erthrown,
Was sadly walking all alone,

I met my love one morning
In Cairnsmill Den.
One morning, one morning,
One blue and blowy morning,
I met my love one morning
In Cairnsmill Den.

A dead bough broke within the wood
Within the wood, within the wood,
And this is truth I tell.
A dead bough broke within the wood,
And I looked up, and there she stood.

I asked what was it brought her there,
What brought her there, what brought her there,
And this is truth I tell.
I asked what was it brought her there.
Says she, `To pull the primrose fair.'

Says I, `Come, let me pull with you,
Along with you, along with you,'
And this is truth I tell.
Says I, `Come let me pull with you,
For one is not so good as two.'

But when at noon we climbed the hill,
We climbed the hill, we climbed the hill,