Tell her to make me a cambric
(On the side of a hill in the deep forest green)
Parsley, sage, rosemary and
(Tracing of sparrow on snow-crested brown)
Without no seams nor nee-ee-dle
(Blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain)
Then she'll be a true love of
(Sleeps unaware of the clarion call)