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Ye swains have pity I pray draw near to me a wounded lover,
In praises of a comely fair I mean for to discover.
As I tripped over the verdant plain the feathered songsters' notes did change,
In melody their voices range in praise of lovely Ann.

My darling she, oh, so divine, she's all together charming,
She far exceeds the sun that shines or the stars that go in the morning.
Her neck and waist and every limb has my poor heart in Cupid's chain,
And if you wish for to know her name, she is called sweet lovely Ann.

Her parents they are so unkind, they are altogether cruel,
That I dare not my mind reveal unto my darling jewel.
The reason why, because I'm poor one sight of me they can't endure,
Nor dare I ever approach the door where dwells sweet lovely Ann.

So fare thee well, I must away and leave you here behind me.
And if you prove a loyal love ‘tis constant you will find me,
For did I possess the Indian store I would part with all and ten times more,
All for the girl that I adore, she's called sweet lovely Ann.

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