He'll wear your heart and you will wear his ringnand you'll go rolling down a mustard hillnPlay a lullaby on a fishbone harpnride away on the gray mare's tailnnIn the morningnIn the morningnIn the morning when I/you risenIn the morningnIn the morningnIn the morning I/you will be my/your true love's bridennWeave a rosemary wreath in your auburn hairnand you'll be the envy of all the girlsnHe'll wear your heart - and you will wear his ringnand you'll go rolling down a mustard hillnPlay a lullaby on a fishbone harpnride away on the gray mare's tailnnIn the morningnIn the morningnIn the morning when I/you risenIn the morningnIn the morningnIn the morning I/you will be my/your true love's bridennOh the blood of the lamb is in the wellnand it runs from the crack along the wedding bellnPerhaps a wind has blown the barrel from its marknI heard the bird but could not hit it in the darknI have bought and sold my only lovenand my rifle, it has let me downnnIn the morningnIn the morningnIn the morning when I/you risenIn the morningnIn the morningnIn the morning will I/she ever be his/my bride?