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(by A.P.Carter; learned at Teton Tea Parties;
."flowers is pronounced "flares" with a strong Southern accent)

(music to go here)

    I been gatherin' flares from the hillside,
    To wreathe around your brow
    But you kept me waitin' so long, dear,
    That the flares are all withered now.

I know you have seen trouble,
But never hang down your head,
Your love for me is like the flowers
Your love for me is dead.
    I been gatherin' flares...

It was on one bright June morning,
The roses were in bloom,
I shot and killed my darlin',
Oh what will be my doom?
    I been gatherin' flares...

Closed eyes cannot see these roses,
Closed hands cannot hold them now,
And these lips that are still cannot kiss me,
They've gone from me forevermore.
    I been gatherin' flares...

(from miriam berg's folksong collection)