S. Baring-Gould, Songs of the West
“ One morning in the month of June, The feathered warbling songsters Were sweetly changing note and tune. I overheard a damsel fair Complain in words of bitter woe, With tear on cheek, she thus did speak, O for the bonny Bunch of Roses, O!2Then up and spake her lover And grasped the maiden by the hand, Have patience, fairest, patience! A legion I will soon command. I'll raise ten thousand soldiers brave Thro' pain and peril I will go A branch will break, for thy sweet sake, A branch of the bonny Bunch of Roses, O! ”
