Margaret:
Gentle leaves, gentle leaves, please array a path for me
The woods are growing thick and fast around
Columbine, columbine, please alert this love of mine
Let him know his Margaret comes along

And all this stirring inside my belly won’t quell my want for love
And I may swoon from all this swelling but I won’t want for love

Mistle thrush, mistle thrush, lay me down in the underbrush
My naked feet grow weary with the dusk
Willow boughs, willow boughs, make a bed to lay me down
Let your branches bow to cradle us

And all this stirring inside my belly won’t quell my want for love
And I may swoon from all this swelling but I won’t want for love

William:
O my own true love, o my own true love!
Can you hear me, love, can you hear me, love?

Margaret:
And all this stirring inside my belly won’t quell my want for love
And I may swoon from all this swelling, but I won’t want for love
Won’t want for love, won’t want for love
I won’t want for love