It was up in a moonlit garden not far from the ballroom grand. A young lad and his sweetheart went strolling hand in hand. Tomorrow the war would call him he vowed he would be true Then from her breast she gave to him a bunch of violets blue. It was only a bunch of violets a bunch of violets blue. Fresh and fair and fragrant like diamonds on the dew. Fresh and fair and dainty as he fetched them to his heart. He smiled and said where'er he'd roam from them he'd n'er would part. A soldier boy lay dying upon the cold, cold ground, A bunch of withered violets upon his breast was found, Turning to his comrades in a feeble voice he sighed, "Take them back and tell her that I wore them till I died." They took her withered violets been on her wedding day. An old man's gold had won her from a soldier faraway. An old man's gold had won her from a soldier young and tall. And this is what she said to him that evening at the ball. It was only a bunch of violets a bunch of violets blue. Fresh and fair and fragrant like diamonds on the dew. Fresh and fair and dainty as he fetched them to his heart. He smiled and said where'er he'd roam from them he'd n'er would part. He smiled and said where'er he'd roam from them he'd n'er would part.