Month Of January

Tommy Makem

It was in the month of January, the hills were clad in snow

As over hills and valleys, my true love he did go

It was there he spied a pretty fair maid, with a salt tear in her eye

She had a baby in her arms, and bitter she did cry

"Oh, cruel was my father to bar the door on me

And cruel was my mother, this dreadful crime to see

Cruel was my own true love to change his mind for gold

Cruel was that winter's night that pierced my heart with cold"

Oh, the taller that the palm tree grows, the sweeter is the bark

And the fairer that a young man speaks, the falser is his heart

He will kiss you and embrace you, 'till he thinks he has you won

Then he'll go away and leave you all for some other one

So come all you pretty fair maids, a warning take by me

And never try to build your nest on top of any tree

For the roots, they will all wither, and the branches all decay

And the beauties of a false young man, must all soon fade away