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Nina Simone |
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Miscellaneous |
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Lass of the Low Country |
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Oh, she was a lass from the low country |
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And he was a lord of high degree |
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But she loved her lordship so tenderly. Oh sorrow sing sorrow |
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Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod |
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And no one knows she loved him but herself and God |
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One morn when the sun was on the mead |
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He passed by her door on a milk white steed |
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She smiled and she spoke, but he paid no heed |
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Oh sorrow sing sorrow |
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Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod |
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And no one knows she loved him but herself and God |
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If you be a lass from the low country |
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Don't love no lord of high degree |
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They haint got a heart for sympathy |
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Oh sorrow sing sorrow |
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Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod |
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And no one knows she loved him but herself and God |
