| Pickin' a bluebell in the merry month of May,
|
| And suddenly I saw him strolling on his way,
|
| Pickin' a bluebell just the same as I was too,
|
| I thought I could be happy with a boy like you.
|
| And as he turned and smiled at me my heart stood still,
|
| I never knew a smile could give me such a thrill.
|
| He was a handsome laddie and he looked so good,
|
| I promised that I’d meet him in the bluebell wood.
|
| Half past seven by the old oak tree,
|
| I was waiting anticipating
|
| What would happen to a girl like me
|
| When he came along?
|
| Pickin' a bluebell in the merry month of May,
|
| And suddenly I saw him strolling on his way,
|
| Pickin' a bluebell just the same as I was too,
|
| I thought I could be happy with a boy like you.
|
| He looked wonderful, oh so wonderful,
|
| How was I to see he would make a fool of me?
|
| Two dark flashing eyes looked like paradise;
|
| My heart flickered like a flame.
|
| What was I to do? |
| Met my Waterloo.
|
| There I stood for him, waiting in the wood for him;
|
| I’m confessing, I learned my lesson
|
| And now I’ll never be the same.
|
| Pickin' a Bluebell in the merry month of May
|
| Is something I’ll remember when I’m old and grey,
|
| And if I live to ninety-two I know darn well,
|
| I never want to see another Scots bluebell. |