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458 |
ENGLISH SONG AND BALLAD MUSIC. |
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Fain would I be in the North-country, [hay;
Where the lads and the lasses are making of There should I see what is pleasant to me;—
A mischief light on them entic'd me away!
0 the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree, Do flourish most bravely in our country.
Since that I came forth of the pleasant North, There's nothing delightful I see doth abound, They never can be half so merry as we,
When we are a dancing of Sellinger's Bound. O the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree, Do flourish at home in our own coutry.
I like not the Court, nor to 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, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree,
Do flourish at home in my own country.
How oft have I been on the Westmoreland
green, [for to play,
Where the young men and maidens resort
Where we with delight, from morning till night,
Could feast it, and frolic, on each holiday.
O the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree,
Do flourish most bravely in our country.
A milking to go, all the maids in a row,
It was a fine sight, and pleasant to see; But here, in the city, they're 'void of all pity, There is no enjoyment of liberty. O the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree, They flourish most bravely in our country.
When I had the heart from my friends to depart,
1 thought I should be a lady at last; But now do I find that it troubles my mind,
Because that my joys and pleasures are past. |
O the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree, They flourish at home in my own country.
The ewes and the lambs, with the kids and
their dams,
To see in the country how finely they play ;
The hells they do ring, and the birds they do
sing, [and gay.
And the fields and the gardens, so pleasant
O the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree,
They flourish most bravely in our country.
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, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree,
They flourish most bravely in our country.
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, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree,
They flourish most bravely in our country.
A maiden I am, and a maid I'll remain, Until my own country again I do see,
For here in this place I shall ne'er see the face Of him that's allotted my love for to be.
0 the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree, They flourish at home in my own country.
Then farewell, my daddy, and farewell, my mammy, Until I do see you, I nothing hut mourn; Rememb'ring my brothers, my sisters, and others, In less than a year I hope to return. Then the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree, [country.
1 shall see them at home in my own |
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THE BROOM, THE BONNY BROOM.
In the Pepys Collection, i. 40, is a black-letter ballad, entitled The new Broome [on hill']. London, printed for F. Coles. It consists of seven stanzas, and commences thus:— |
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" Poore Coridon did sometime sit Hard by the broomo alone, |
And, thinking that none else was nie, He thus began his song : [broome,
The bonny broome, the wellfavour'd The broome blooms /aire on hill; What ail'd my love to lightly mee, And I working her will ?"
the " bunch of ballads and songs, all |
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And secretly complain'd to it
Against his only one. He bids the broome that blooms him by
Beare witness to his wrong, '
The second line of the burden recalls |
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