Browse Carols: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z # Shropshire Wakes The tree made answer by and by, I have cause to grow triumphantly, The sweetest dew that ever be seen, Doth fall on me to keep me green. Yea, quoth the maid, but where you grow You stand at hand for every blow, Of every man for to be seen, I marvel that you grow so green. Though many one take flowers from me, And many a branch out of my tree; I have such store they will not be seen, For more and more my twigs grow green. But how, an they chance to cut thee down, And carry thy branches into the town? Then they will never more be seen To grow again no fresh and green. Browse Carols: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #