Down in some lone valley,
In a lonesome place
Where the wild birds do whistle,
And their notes do increase
Farewell pretty Saro,
I bid you adieu,
But I'll dream of pretty Saro
Wherever I go.

My love, she won't have me,
So I understand,
She wants a freeholder
Who owns house and land.
I cannot maintain her,
With silver and gold
Nor buy all the fine things
That a big house can hold.

If I were a merchant
And could write a fine hand
I'd write my love a letter
That she'd understand
I'd write it by the river
Where the waters o'er-flow
And I'll dream of pretty Saro,
Wherever I go.