Thee I love, more than the meadow so green and still More than the mulberries on the hill More than the buds on a May apple tree, I love thee Arms have I, strong as the oak, for this occasion Lips have I, to kiss thee, too, in friendly persuasion Thee is mine, though I don't know many words of praise Thee pleasures me in a hundred ways So put on your bonnet, your cape, and your glove And come with me, for thee I love Arms have I, strong as the oak, for this occasion Lips have I, to kiss thee, too, in friendly persuasion Thee is mine, though I don't know many words of praise Thee pleasures me in a hundred ways So put on your bonnet, your cape, and your glove And come with me, for thee I love For thee I love