Folk and Traditional Song Lyrics:
Hind Horn

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Hind Horn

Hind Horn

Hind Horn fair and Hind horn free
Oh where were you born, in what country?

In good greenwood, thee was I born
And all by forebears me beforn

Oh, seven years I served the king
And as for wages I never got nane

But ae sight of his ae daughter
And that was through an auger bore

I gaed my love a silver wand
'Twas to rule over all Scotland

And she gave me a gay gold ring
The virtue of it was above all things

As long as this ring keeps its hue
You'll know I am a lover true

But when the ring turns pale and wan
You'll know I love another man

He hoist up his sails and away sailed he
And sailed into a far country

And when he looked upon his ring
He knew she loved another man

He hoist up sails and home came he
Home unto his own country

The first he met on his own land
It chanced to be a beggar man

What news, what news, my good old man?
What news, what news, have you to me?

Nae news, nae news, said the old man
The morn's the queen's wedding day

Will you lend me your begging weed?
And I'll lend you my riding steed

My begging weed would ill suit thee
And your riding steed will ill suit me

But part be right and part be wrong
Frae the beggar man the cloak he won

Old man, come tell me to your lead
What news you give when you earn your bread?

As you walk up unto the hill
Your pike staff you lend ye till

But when ye come near by the yett
Straight to them you will upstep

Take nane from Peter nor from Paul
Nane from high or low of them all

And from them all he would take nane
Until it came from the bride's ain hand

The bride came tripping down the stair
The combs of red gold all in her hair

A cup of red wine in her hand
And that she gave to the beggar man

Out of the cup he drank the wine
And into the cup he dropped the ring

Oh, got ye't by sea or got ye't by land
Or got ye't on a drownd man's hand?

I got it not by sea, nor got it by land
Nor got I it on a dead man's hand

But I got it at my wooing gay
And I'll gie't you on your wedding day

I'll take the red gold frae my head
And follow you and beg my bread

I'll take the red gold frae my hair
And follow you forever mair

Between the kitchen and the hall
He let his coutie cloak downfall

And with red gold shone over them all
And frae the bridegroom the bride he stole

Child #17
Collected by Child and Gavin
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E-Book - An Annotated Compendium of Old Time American Songs by James Alverson III