One sunny springtime morning
I met her on a fair day.
I saw her from a distance
Out strolling on the fairway.

As like the springtime morning
She filled the air with joy...
She was a rose of England
And I a blacksmith's boy.

I heard that she was singing
As I maundered ever near;
The sweetest, charming plainsong
Sent softly to my ear.

As like the springtime morning
She filled the air with joy...
She was a rose of England
And I a blacksmith's boy.

She had the rarest countenance,
She had the fairest flowing hair;
She looked the grandest lady,
Ethereal beyond compare.

As like the springtime morning
She filled the air with joy...
She was a rose of England
And I a blacksmith's boy.

She was a rose of this fair land,
The flower of Saint George,
But I my master's vassal,
A servant of the forge.

So, like the springtime morning
She filled my heart with joy...
She, a rose of England
Whilst I, a blacksmith's boy.