Oh come all you little streamers that walk the meadows gay
These are the finest flowers that ever my eyes did see.
Fine flowery hills and fishing dells and hunting also
At the top of yonder mountain where fine flowers grow.
At the top of yonder mountain, there my love's castle stands
It's over-decked with ivory to the bottom of the strand.
There's arches and there's parches and a diamond stone so bright;
It's a beacon for a sailor on a dark, stormy night.
At the bottom of the mountain there runs a river clear.
A ship from the Indies did once anchor there,
With her red flags a-flying and the beating of a drum
Sweet instruments of music and the firing of her gun.
So come all you little streamers that walks the meadows gay
And write unto my own true love wherever he may be
For her sweet lips entice me, but her tongue it tells me “No!”
But an angel might direct us, oh, it's where shall we go?