A Blacksmith's Boy

One sunny springtime morning I met her on a fair day. I saw her from a distance Out strolling on the fair way. As like the springtime morning She filled the air with joy... She was a rose of England And I a blacksmith's boy. I heard that she was singing As I maundered ever near; The sweetest charming plainsong Sent softly to my ear. As like the springtime morning She filled the air with joy... She was a rose of England And I a blacksmith's boy. She had the rarest countenance, She had the fairest flowing hair; She looked the grandest lady, Ethereal beyond compare. As like the springtime morning She filled the air with joy... She was a rose of England And I a blacksmith's boy. She was a rose of this fair land, The flower of Saint George, But I my master's vassal, A servant of the forge. So, like the springtime morning She filled my heart with joy... She, a rose of England Whilst I, a blacksmith's boy.