I’d pluck a fair rose for my love, I’d pluck a red rose blowing. Love’s in my heart, a-trying so to prove what your heart’s knowing. I’d pluck a finger on a thorn, I’d pluck a finger bleeding. Red is my heart, wounded and forlorn, and your heart needing. I’d hold a finger to my tongue, I’d hold a finger waiting. My heart is sore until it joins in song wi’ your heart mating.