|Share page||Visit Us On FB|
The Song Book
I like not the court, nor the city resort, Since there is no fancy for such maids as me; Their pomp and their pride, I can never abide, Because with my humour it doth not agree. O the oak, and the ash, &c.
How oft have I been in the Westmoreland green, Where the young men and maidens resort for to play, Where we with delight, from morning till night, Could feast it, and frolic on each holiday. O the oak, and the ash, &c.
The ewes and their lambs, with the kids and their dams, To see in the country how finely they play; The bells they do ring, and the birds they do sing, And the fields and the gardens, so pleasant and gay. O the oak, and the ash, &c.
At wakes and at fairs, being 'void of all cares, We there with our lovers did use for to dance; Then hard hap had I, my ill fortune to try, And so up to London, my steps to advance. O the oak, and the ash, &c.
But still I perceive, I a husband might have, If I to the city my mind could but frame ; But I'll have a lad that is North-Country bred, Or else I'll not marry, in the mind that I am. O the oak, and the ash, &c.
A maiden I am, and a maid I'll remain, Until my own country again 1 do see, For here in this place I shall ne'er see the face Of him that's allotted my love for to be. O the oak, and the ash, &c.
Then farewell my daddy, and farewell my mammy, Until I do see you, I nothing but mourn; Rememb'ring my brothers, my sisters, and others, In less than a year, I hope to return. Then the oak, and the ash, &c.
Chappell. From The Dancing Master.