The Month of January - Tommy Makem
It was in the month of January
The hills were clad in snow
As over hills and mountains
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
'Til he thinks he has you won
Then he'll go away and leave you
All for some other one
Oh 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
