When the bees are in the hive
By the millstreams sits the Miller's lovely daughter Her cheeks are like the first red rose of June Her weet voice sounds like the rippling water As so tenderly she hums an old love tune But soon her song of love has turned to sorrow For her weetheart has come to say goodbye He is thinking sadly of the morrow As he kisses her and murmurs with a sigh When the bees are in the hive and the honey's in the comb And the golden sun beams bend to kiss the dew As the old mill wheel truns round I love you Mary When the bees are in the hive I'll come to you By the mill stream slts a lonely maid pining And her fancy like the stream, rolls far away As she looks into the silvery water shining She sdds her golden locks now tinged with grey Long years she's waited there for his returning But the years pass by and her waiting's all in vain As she looks down the river for his coming So tenderly she sings this old refain * Refarain