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Lass of the Low Country
Nina Simone
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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
But she loved him oh so tenderly
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Oh sorrow, sing sorrow
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Now she sleeps in the valley where the wildflowers nod
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No one knows how she loved him but herself and god
One day when the snow was on the mead
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She passed him by on a milk white steed
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And she spoke to him low, nobody paid no heed
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Oh sorrow, sing sorrow
Now she sleeps in the valley where the wildflowers nod
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No one knows how she loved him but herself and god
Now if you be a lass from the low country
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Don't love no man of high degree
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For he don't got a heart or no sympathy
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Oh sorrow, sing sorrow
Now she sleeps in the valley where wildflowers nod
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No one knows how she loved him but herself and god
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