Make me a coat of blue, little Lisbeth, so I can away to the war –
But if I do, I’ll not see you for many days, many years, more.

Show me your wool, little Lisbeth, is it soft and warm as your hand?
My wool is the finest you’ll find in Frome, but you want to follow the band.

Stir in the woad, little Lisbeth, make it blue, as blue as the sea –
But the sea’s so deep, my darling, and will come between you and me.

Let the cloth dry, little Lisbeth, hang it out in the Close on a rack,
But when I do, my tears will flow, not knowing when you will be back.

Cut out and shape, little Lisbeth, the cloth to my body so strong,
Be patient, hold still, my darling, I promise I won’t take too long.

Sew a fine seam, little Lisbeth, with your needle and thread so bold,
My needle draws blood, my darling, and my trembling hand has gone cold.

Now add the buttons and braid, little Lisbeth, make it as fine as you can,
It will be the best in the town, my love, to suit the most handsome man.

And I must away, little Lisbeth, at the sound of the drums in the lane,
And I must kiss you goodbye, my love, for I’ll never see you again.