Marianne Faithfull

A north country maid up to london has strayed
Although with her nature it did not agree.
So she wept and she sighed and bitterly she cried,
"oh, I wish once again in the north I could be."
For the oak and the ash and the bonny ivy tree
They all grow green in the north country.
While sadly I roam I regret my dear home,
Where the lads and young lasses are making the hay.
Where the birds sweetly sing, and the merry bells do ring