Thee I love, more than the meadow so green and still

More than the mulberries on the hill

More than the buds on a May apple tree, I love thee



Arms have I, strong as the oak, for this occasion

Lips have I, to kiss thee, too, in friendly persuasion



Thee is mine, though I don't know many words of praise

Thee pleasures me in a hundred ways

So put on your bonnet, your cape, and your glove

And come with me, for thee I love



Arms have I, strong as the oak, for this occasion

Lips have I, to kiss thee, too, in friendly persuasion



Thee is mine, though I don't know many words of praise

Thee pleasures me in a hundred ways

So put on your bonnet, your cape, and your glove

And come with me, for thee I love



For thee I love