  Oh, little loveliest lady mine! What shall I send for your valentine? Summer and flowers are far away, Gloomy old Winter is king to-day, Buds will not blow, and sun will not shine; What shall I do for a valentine? Prithee, Saint Valentine, tell me here, Why do you come at this time o' year? Plenty of days when lilies are white, Plenty of days when sunbeams are bright; But now, when everything's dark and drear, Why do you come, Saint Valentine dear? I've searched the gardens all through and through, For a bud to tell of my love so true; But buds are asleep, and blossoms are dead, And the snow beats down on my poor little head; So, little loveliest lady mine, Here is my heart for your valentine. |
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