English Folk Songs from the Southern Appalachians

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	Young Hunting 6 Come here, come here, my pretty little bird And perch all on my thumb, For I have a cage and a very fine cage And I'll give it up to thee. 7 It's I ain't a-coming there and I won't come there To perch all on your thumb, For I'm afraid you'll rob me of my tender little heart Just like a Scotland man, man. 8 It's if I had my bow and arrow, My arrow and my bow, I'd shoot you right through the tender little heart Just like the Scotland man, man. 9 It's if you had your bow and arrow, Your arrow and your bow, I'd fly away to the heavens above And ne'er be seen any more.

	2 I can't come in, nor I'm not coming in To stay all night with thee, For I have a wife in the old Scotland, This night she waits for me. {The remaining stanzas as in B) 49