THE TREES THEY DO GROW HIGH
(Traditional)

Joan Baez - 1961
Martin Carthy - 1965
Pentangle - 1968
John Renbourne - 1968
Greg Joy - 1993
Eliza Carthy & Nancy Kerr - 2002


The trees they grow high, the leaves they do grow green
Many is the time my true love I've seen
Many an hour I have watched him all alone
He's young, but he's daily growing

Father, dear father, you've done me great wrong
You have married me to a boy who is too young
I'm twice twelve and he is but fourteen
He's young, but he's daily growing

Daughter, dear daughter, I've done you no wrong
I have married you to a great lord's son
He'll be a man for you when I am dead and gone
He's young, but he's daily growing

Father, dear father, if you see fit
We'll send him to college for another year yet
I'll tie blue ribbons all around his head
To let the maidens know that he's married

One day I was looking o'er my father's castle wall
I spied all the boys a-playing at the ball
My own true love was the flower of them all
He's young, but he's daily growing

And so early in the morning, at the dawning of the day 
They went out into the hayfield to have some sport and play
And what they did there, she never would declare
But she never more complained of his growing

At the age of fourteen, he was a married man
At the age of fifteen, the father of a son
At the age of sixteen, his grave it was green
And death had put an end to his growing

I'll buy my love some flannel and I will make a shroud
With every stitch I put in it, the tears they will pour down
With every stitch I put in it, how the tears will flow
Cruel fate has put an end to his growing


*****


Alternate Version: 
THE TREES THEY DO GROW HIGH


The trees they do grow high,
And the leaves they do grow green;
But the time is past and gone, my love,
That you and I have been.
It's a cold winter's night, my love,
And here I must abide alone:
My bonny lad was young, but a-growing.
Growing, growing,
O my bonny lad was young,
But a-growing.

"O Father, dearest Father,
I fear you've done me wrong,
For you've married me to a bonnie boy,
But I fear he is too young."
"O Daughter, dearest Daughter,
If you'll stay at home a time with me,
A lady you shall be while he's growing."
Growing, growing,
O a lady you shall be,
While he's a-growing.

"We'll send him to a college
For a year or two,
And then perhaps in time, my love,
Into a man he'll grow.
I will buy you a ribbon blue
To tie around his bonny waist
To let the ladies know that he's married."
Married, married,
O to let the ladies know
That he's married.

At the age of sixteen,
He was a married man,
And at the age of seventeen,
The father of a son,
And at the age of eighteen,
His grave it was a-growing green,
And that did put an end to his growing.
Growing, growing,
O and that did put an end
To his growing.

The trees they do grow high,
And the leaves they do grow green;
But the time is past and gone, my love,
That you and I have been.
It's a cold winter's night, my love,
And here I must abide alone:
My bonny lad was young, but a-growing.
Growing, growing,
O my bonny lad was young,
But a-growing.


*****


Alternate Version: 
STILL GROWING


The trees they do grow high and the leaves they do grow green
The days are passed and gone, my love, that you and I have seen.
It's a cold winter's night, and I must lie alone,
For my pretty lad is long, long a-growing.

O father, dear father, you to me much harm have done
You've married me unto a boy, you know he is too young.
O daughter, dear daughter, and if you'll wait awhile,
A lady you shall be while he's growing.

We'll send your lad to college for one year or two,
And in that time perhaps, my love, he then may do for you.
And all about his waist we will tie a ribbon blue
For to let the ladies know that he's married.

She listened in the garden, she looked o'er the wall.
Of four and twenty scholars there, her love exceeded all.
They would not let her through, for her true love she did call,
Because he was a young man growing.

It happened on a day, and a sunshiny day
They went into the greenwood for to sport and for to play.
O what did there befall, I tell not unto thee,
But she never more complained on his growing.

At the age of sixteen o he was a married man,
At the age of seventeen she brought him forth a son.
At the age of eighteen o the grass was growing green
O'er my bonny lad so long, long a-growing.

I made my love a shroud of the holland o so fine,
And every stitch I put in it the tears run down the twine,
Saying, "Once I had a sweetheart, but now I have got none,
For he was to me my own true love for ever."

O now my love is dead and in the grave does lie.
The green grass it grows over him so very high.
There I may sit and mourn until the day I die,
But I'll watch o'er his child while he's growing.