Further proof that I am sucker for a tragic love story.

A Somerset folk song arranged by Benjamen Britten

The trees they grow so high and the leaves they do grow green,
And many a cold winter`s night my love and I have seen,
Of a cold winter`s night, my love, you and I alone have been
Whilst my bonny boy is young he`s a growing,
Growing, growing, whilst my bonny boy is young he`s a growing

O father dearest father, you`ve done to me great wrong
You`ve tied me to a boy when you know he is too young
O daughter, dearest dauther, if you wait a little while,
A lady you shall be while he`s growing.
Growing, growing, a lady you shall be while he`s growing.

I`ll send your love to college all for a year or two,
And then in the meantime he will do for you;
I`ll buy him white ribbons, tie them round his bonny waist
To let the ladies know that he`s married
Married, married, to let the ladies know that he`s married

I went up to the college and looked over the wall,
Saw four and twenty gentlemen playing at bat and ball
I called for my true love, but they would not let him come,
All because he was a young boy and growing
Growing, growing, all because he was a young boy and growing

At the age of sixteen he was a married man
And at the age of seventeen he was father to a son
And at the age of eighteen the grass grew over him,
Cruel death soon put an end to his growing
Growing, growing, cruel death soon put an end to his growing

And now my love is dead and in his grave doth lie
The green grass grow o`er him so very very high
I`ll sit and I`ll mourn his fate until the day I die
And I`ll watch all o`er his child while he`s growing
Growing, growing, and I`ll watch all o`er his child while he`s growing

Sora manages to capture the sadness of the lyrics in her voice. The end of the song has a really haunting feel to it with Sora’s vocals fading into nothing just silence. - Sara Hunt