Way down in the meadow, where the lily first blows Where the wind from the mountains near ruffles the roseLives fond Evelina, the sweet little dove The pride of the valley, the girl that I loveDear Evelina, sweet Evelina My love for thee shall never, never dieShe's fair like a rose, like a lamb she is meek And she never was known to put paint on her cheekIn the most gracious curls hangs her raven black hair And she never requires perfumery thereDear Evelina, sweet Evelina My love for thee shall never, never die*
