Broken are the boughs of the willow She walks beneath them to me Up above the sky is rolling With clouds so gracefully IÂŽm living in my yellow house
On the hill by the fields of green that sway I cannot think of anything She walks to me this way
Broken are the boughs of the willow
Broken are the boughs of the willow She walks beneath them to me There amongst the wild roses That turn against the breeze The easy smile of her mouth And the waves in the distance silver grey The glinting of her golden ring The dying of the day
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đđ€ Paroles de chanson Française et Internationnales