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54 Songs and Ballads |
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2 At night we come in
To our camps bleak and cold, And till nine in the evening we play;
And through broken slumbers
We do pass All the cold winter nights away.
3 At three in the morning The cook he does rise up,
Saying, "Turn out, my boys, 'tis day." And as soon as the morning Star does appear
To the greenwoods we must away.
4 Transported are we are From the maiden so fair
On the banks of the bushisle1 stream And the wolves and the owls With their terrifying howls
They disturb us of our nightly dream.
5 Transported are we are From the bottle and the glass
And the friends that we left far behind;
There is no one comes here
For to wipe away a tear When sorrow fills our troubled mind.
6 Now the spring is coming on And our hardship's just begun,
And the water it is piercing cold; With our clothes dripping wet, And our limbs nearly froze,
And our peavies we scarce can hold. |
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1 So in the MS. |
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