> Folk Music > Songs > I'll Weave Him a Garland

I'll Weave Him a Garland / The Garland of Love

[ Roud 1247 ; Ballad Index WT072 ; VWML AW/6/44 ; Bodleian Roud 1247 ; Wiltshire 175 ; trad.]

Alfred Williams collected I'll Weave Him a Garland from Mrs Rowles of Witney [VWML AW/6/44] , and noted that it was “Formerly sung by her father, W. Barrett, of Marston Meysey.”

Andy Turner learned Barbara Berry's setting of Mrs Rowles' version, and sang it as the 21 July 2012 entry of his project A Folk Song a Week.

Bob and Gill Berry sang I'll Weave Him a Garland on their 2018 WildGoose CD Echoes of Alfred.

A beautiful song of pure love. Collected from William Bartlett, Marston Meysey and set to music by Bob’s mum, Barbara.

Ninebarrow sang Weave Her a Garland on their 2016 CD Releasing the Leaves. This track was also included on the anthology BBC Radio 2 Folk Awards 2017. They noted:

Folk Songs of the Upper Thames is a fantastic book of songs collected by Alfred Williams and contains, in his words, a “permanent record of the language and activities” in and around the area in which Williams lived. This song stood out for us as, unlike much of our material, no one died, no children were stolen, lovers weren’t separated and no castles were besieged! It’s altogether a rather sweet song and we thought it’d be great to take on a song we’ve actually never heard anyone else sing. As Williams didn’t collect tunes, we wrote our own for this particular song.

Anna Baldwin sang The Garland of Love on Amsher's 2018 album of Hampshire songs collected by Lucy Broadwood in Oxfordshire, Patience Vaisey at Adwell 1892. Bob Askew noted:

A beautiful and rather ornate love song with the chorus “'I'll weave my love a garland…” There were many broadsides from the mid 18th century, but it seems to have become very rare by the end of the 19th century.

Lyrics

Mrs Rowles sings I'll Weave Him a Garland

How sweet are the flowers that grow by yon fountain!
How sweet are the cowslips that spangle the grove!
More sweet are the breezes that blow o’er the mountain,
But none are so sweet as the charms of my love.

Chorus (after each verse):
Then I’ll weave him a garland,
A fresh blooming garland,
Of roses and lilies and daffodown dillies;
I’ll weave him a garland,
A fresh blooming garland,
A garland I’ll give to the lad that I love.

The blackbirds and thrushes they rise in the morning,
How melodious they play their sweet notes by the grove!
I’ll own it is pleasing, delightful, and charming,
To ease the fond sighs of the lad that I love.

It was down in the vale where my sweetheart was walking,
Oh, how happy I should feel to stand by him again!
But if he should prove false to me, his heart to some other,
For me to sing pleasure it would be in vain.

Ninebarrow sing Weave Her a Garland

How sweet are the flowers that grow by the fountain
How sweet are the cowslips that spangle the grove
More sweet it is the breeze that blows over the mountains
But none are so sweet as the charms of my love

Chorus (after each verse):
And I'll weave her a garland
A fresh blooming garland of roses and lilies
And daff-a-down-dillies
I'll weave her a garland
A fresh blooming garland
A garland I'll give to the one I adore

The blackbirds and thrushes they rise in the morning
How softly they play their sweet notes by the grove
I’ll own it is pleasing,
Delightful and charming
To ease the fond sighs of the one that I love

It was down in the vale my sweetheart was walking
How happy I’d be to stand by her again
If she should prove false
Give her heart to another
For me to sing pleasure it would be in vain!

Anna Baldwin sings The Garland of Love

How sweet are the flowers that grow by yon fountain,
How sweet are the cowslips that spangle the grove!
How sweet is the breeze that blows over the mountain,
Yet none are so sweet as the lad that I love.

Chorus (after each verse):
Then I’ll weave him a garland,
A fresh blowing garland,
With lilies and roses,
And sweet blooming posies;
𝄆A garland I’ll give to the lad that I love. 𝄇

It was down in yon vale where the sweet stars were gilding,
Its murmuring streams ripple through the dark grove.
I owned that I felt all my passion confiding,
To ease the fond sighs of the lad that I love.

Should heaven prove kind and unite us together
That I might live happy in the arms of my swain;
But if he proves false and gives his heart to another,
For me to seek pleasure it would be in vain.

The lark and the thrush they arise in the morning,
Their voices melodious to sing through the grove!
I own it was pleasant, delightful, and charming,
But not to compare with the charms of my love.