"O where have you been, my dearest dear,
These seven long years and mair?"
"O I'm come to seek my former vows
Ye granted me before. "
"O hold your tongue of your former vows
For they will breed sad strife;
O hold your tongue of your former vows,
For I am become a wife."
"I might have had a king's daughter
Far, far beyond the sea;
I might have had a king's daughter
Had it not been for love of thee."
"If ye might have had a king's daughter,
Yer self ye had to blame;
Ye might have taken the king's daughter,
Fer ye kend that I was nane."
"I have seven ships upon the sea,
The eighth brought me to land;
With four-and-twenty bold mariners
And music on every hand."
She has taken up her two little babes,
Kissed them baith cheek and chin:
"O fare ye well, my ain two babes,
For I'll ne'er see you again."
She set her foot upon the ship,
No mariners could she behold;
But the sails were of the taffetie,
And the masts of the beaten gold.
She had not sailed a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
When dismal grew his countenance
And drumlie grew his e'e.
The masts that were like the beaten gold
Bent not on the heaving seas;
And the sails that were o'the taffetie
Filled not in the eastland breeze.
They had not sailed a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
Until she espied his cloven foot,
And she wept right bitterlie.
"O hold your tongue of your weeping," says he
"Of you weeping now let me be;
I will show you how the lilies grow
On the banks of Italy."
And aye when she turned her round about,
Aye, taller he seemed to be;
Until that the tops of the gallant ship
Nae taller were than he.
The clouds grew dark and the wind grew loud,
And levin filled her e'e;
And waesome wailed the snow-white sprites
Upon the girlie sea.
He strack the tapmast wi' his hand
The foremast wi' his knee
And he brake the gallant ship in twain
And sank her in the sea.
A knight he rode his lonely way
Thinking about his wedding day
As he rode through a forest near
The elf king's daughter did appear
Out she stepped from the elfin band
Smiling she held out her hand
Welcome sir knight, why such speed?
Come with me the dance to lead
Chorus: Dance, dance, follow me
Round and round the greenwood tree
Dance, dance, while you may
Tomorrow is your dying day
Dance with me, dance with me
Listen sir knight come dance with me,
Spurs of gold I'll give to thee
Dance neither I will give nor may
Tomorrow is my wedding day
Please sir knight come dance with me
A shirt of silk I'll give to thee
A shirt of silk so white and fine
My mother has bleached in the moon-beams shine
Chorus
Please sir knight come dance with me
A crown of gold I'll give to thee
Your crown of gold I'll freely take
But I'll not join your elfin wake
Do you refuse to dance with me
A plague of death shall follow thee
Between his shoulders a blow she dealt
Such a blow he'd never felt
Chorus
It was no beast nor banshee, that the castle folk
knew well.
Nor prisoner in agony, nor demon trapped by spell.
No ghost that moaned in penance nor a soul in
mortal fright.
Twas' just the Countess singing, for she practiced
every night.
The Countess was convinced that she should have
been born a Bard,
And thus she made the lives of those within her
power hard.
For they must listen to her sing, and smile at
what they heard;
And swear she had a golden voice, to rival any
bird.
The Countess was convinced that she had wedded
'neath her state,
And so the worst lot fell upon her meek and mild
mate.
Not only must the Count each night. endure her
every song,
But suffer silent her abuse, be blamed for every
wrong.
It was a dark and stormy night, or so the Bards
concur,
And so perhaps that was the reason why there
was no stir
When suddenly the music ceased--and when dawn
raised its head,
Within the tower servants found the Countess
stiff and dead.
The Heralds came at once to judge if there had
been foul play,
And questioned all most carefully, to hear what
they might say,
And one fact most surprisingly, quickly acme
to light;
That every movement of the Count, was vouched
for on that night.
The castle folk, by ones and twos, came forward
on their own
To swear the Count that night had never once
been all alone;
And though the tower had been locked tight, with
two keys to the door:
One his, One hers.....The Count was plain absolved
of guilt for sure.
At length the Heralds then proclaimed her death
a suicide,
And all within the district voiced themselves
quite satisfied.
It was a verdict, after all, that none cared
to refute,
Though.... no one could imagine why...she tried
to eat her lute!!
No fiddle tune can take the air
But I see her swift feet a-dancing
And the swirl of her long brown hair
Her smiling face and her dark eyes glancing
As we stepped out "Blink Bonnie Fair"
And if my waiting prove in vain
I will pack and track ever take me
And the long road will ease my pain
No gem of womankind will make me
E'er whisper love's words again
For in drink I'll keep good company
My ears will ring with the tavern's laughter
And I'll hear not her last sweet sighs
Then who's to know, in the morning after
That I long for her deep dark eyes
Don't leave me alone!
A cry in the night
Of heart-striking anguish
Of soul-killing fright.
Live for my living
Or else I must die.
Don't leave me alone!
A world heard that cry.
My world torn from me
While hope flew so high,
It vanished between
Leaving me half alive.
I'd will life to end,
But for you, my love fair;
You stayed by my side,
And I knew you were there.
Don't leave me alone!
Return from your flight.
Don't leave me to cry
Through the long, lonesome nights.
Please, live for my living,
Or else I must die.
Don't leave me alone!
A world heard that cry.
There was a lady in the North
I ne'er could find her marrow;
She was courted by nine gentlemen
And a shepherd lad from Yarrow.
These nine sat drinking at the wine,
Sat drinking wine at Yarrow;
They ha'e made a solemn vow
To fight for her on Yarrow.
She's washed his face and combed his hair,
As oft she'd done afore O,
And made him like a knight so bright
To fight for her on Yarrow.
As he walked up by the high, high hills
And down by the holms o' Yarrow,
There he saw nine armed men
Come to fight with him on Yarrow.
And there they flew and there he slew,
And there he wounded sorely,
Till her brother, John, came in beyond
And wounded him most foully.
"Oh father, dear, I dreamed a dream,
A dream of duel and sorrow;
I dreamed I was pulling the heather bells
On the dowie dens o' Yarrow."
"Oh, daughter dear, I read your dream,
I doubt not t'will bring you sorrow,
For your own true love lies pale and wan
On the dowie dens o' Yarrow."
As she walked up yon high, high hill
And down by the holms o' Yarrow,
ANd there she spied her own true love
Lying pale and wan on Yarrow.
Her hair it being three-quarters long,
The color it was yellow,
She wrappit it round his middle so small
And bore him down to Yarrow.
"Oh, father dear, you've seven sons,
You may wed them all tomorrow,
But the fairest flower among them all
Was the lad I wooed on Yarrow."
Come one and all both great and small
With voices loud and clear
And let us sing in praise of the Queen
For bating the tax upon beer.
Chorus: For I likes a drop o' good beer,
I do
I likes a drop o' good beer
And damns his eyes whoever tries
To rob a poor man of his beer, his beer
And damns his eyes whoever tries
To rob a poor man of his beer
Let ministers shake the duty on cake
And cause port wine to be dear
So long as they keep the bread in me teeth
And give me a skillful of beer.
In harvest fields there's nothing can yield
The labor of such good cheer
To reap and mow and to make barley grow
And to give us a drop o' good beer.
So long may Queen Elizabeth reign
And to her subjects be dear
And wherever we goes we'll wallop her foes
If you'll give us a skillful of beer
Some friends and I in a public house,
Were drinking up a storm one night.
When into the room a fireman came,
His face all chalky white.
"What's up?" says Brown, "Have you seen a ghost?"
"Have you seen your Aunt Maire?"
"Oh, me Aunt Maire be buggered," says he,
"The bleedin pub's on fire!"
"On fire?" says Brown, "There's a bit of luck,"
"Everybody follow me."
"For down in the cellar, if the fire's not there,"
"We'll have a rare old spree."
So, we all went down, with good old Brown
And beer we could not miss.
And we had not been five minutes there
Before we were bloody pissed!
And... there was Brown, upside down, moppin up
the whiskey on the floor.
"Booze, booze!" the firemen cried as they came
a-knockin on the door.
"Don't let em in till its all mopped up!"
Somebody shouted "Macintyre!"
And we all got blue-blind paralytic drunk when
the old Dun Cow caught fire.
Then Smith walked over to the port wine tub
And gave it a few hard knocks.
Started takin off his pantaloons,
Likewise his stinkin socks.
"Hold on," says Brown, "That ain't allowed."
"You can't do that there here!"
"Don't go washin your trotters in the port wine
tub"
"When we've got Guinness's beer!"
Just then there came a terrible crash,
And half the bloody roof gave way.
We was all drowned in the fireman's hose...
But we was almost---happy.
So, we got some rags, and some old tin tacks
And we nailed ourselves inside.
And we kept on drinking our pints of ale
Till we were all bleary-eyed.
And... there was Brown, upside down, moppin up
the whiskey on the floor.
"Booze, booze!" the firemen cried as they came
a-knockin on the door.
"Don't let em in till its all mopped up!"
Somebody shouted "Macintyre!"
And we all got blue-blind paralytic drunk when
the old Dun Cow caught fire.
I prithee, an thou hast enjoyed rest and merriment whilst pausing at
the Gallery, scribe thy thoughts to the good gentle below.
songsmith@oocities.com
Scribed this 28th day of October, 1998
Except for where otherwise noted, all works and
character concepts are Copyrighted 1997
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