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?
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.