I dream of Jeanie
with the light brown hair,
born like a vapor
on the summer air,
I see her tripping
where the bright streams play,
happy as the daisies
that dance on her way.
Many were the wild notes
her merry voice would pour
many were the blithe birds
that warbled them over.
I dream of Jeanie
with the light brown hair,
floating like
a vapour
on the soft
summer air.
I sigh for Jeanie,
but her light form strayed
far from the fond parts
round her native glade
Her smiles have vanished
and her sweet songs flown,
flitting like the dreams
that have cheered us
and gone.
Now the nodding wild flowers
may wither on the shore,
while her gentle fingers
will cull them no more.
I'll die for Jeanie
with the light brown hair,
floating like
a vapour
on the soft
summer air.
