I MIND me of the hawthorn trees,
With cuckoos flying near ;
The hawthorn blossoms smelt so sweet,
The cuckoo called so clear !

The hill was steep enough to climb.
It seemed to touch the sky !
You saw two valleys from the top,
The Severn and the Wye.

The Severn and the Wye you saw,
And they were always green ;
I think it was the prettiest sight
That I have ever seen.

And there, so far above the town.
With not a soul to see.
Whenever she could slip away
My love would come to me !

I never smell the hawthorn bloom,
Or hear the cuckoo sing,
But I am minded of my love.
And Malvern Hills in Spring !