When Summertime is dying and Autumn comes around,
The gentle breeze is sighing the leaves fall to the ground.
The song birds cease their singing for distant lands so fair.
But still the ivy's clinging to the faithful oak tree there.
Love me like ivy loves the old oak tree
Make a vow and tell me how you'll always cling to me.
Promise we will never sever say you'll cling to me forever,
And love me like the ivy loves the old oak tree.
The flowers, sweet and tender, all lose their beauty rare,
The valleys lose their splendor, the hills and dales are bare.
Though cruel winds are blowing beneath the wintry skies
The ivy love is glowing, for the ivy never dies.
Whiting, RIchard A. and Moriarty, George J., "Love Me like the Ivy loves the Old Oak Tree" (1914). Historic Sheet Music Collection. 867.
The views expressed in this paper are solely those of the author.