| I am a poor young girl
|
| That’s straight from Callander.
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| I’m in search of Lord Gregory--
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| Pray God I find him!
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| The rain beats my yellow locks
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| And the dew wets me still,
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| My babe is cold in my arms--
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| Lord Gregory, let me in!"
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| «Lord Gregory’s not here and
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| Henceforth can’t be seen,
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| For he’s gone to bonny Scotland
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| For to bring home his new queen.
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| So leave now these windows
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| And likewise this hall,
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| For it’s deep in the sea
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| You should hide your downfall.»
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| «Who'll shoe my babe’s little feet?
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| Who’ll put gloves on her hand?
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| Who will tie my babe’s middle
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| With a long linen band?
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| Who’ll comb my babe’s yellow hair
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| With an ivory comb?
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| Who will be my babe’s father
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| Till Lord Gregory comes home?
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| Do you remember, love Gregory,
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| That night in Callander
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| Where we changed pocket handkerchiefs,
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| And me against my will?
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| For yours was pure linen, love,
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| And mine but coarse cloth;
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| For yours cost a guinea, love,
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| And mine but one groat.
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| Do you remember, love Gregory,
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| That night in Callander
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| Where we changed rings on our fingers,
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| And me against my will?
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| For yours was pure silver, love,
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| And mine was but tin;
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| For yours cost a guinea, love,
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| And mine but one cent."
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| «And my curse on you, Mother,
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| My curse being sore!
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| Sure, I dreamed the girl I love
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| came a-knocking at my door.»
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| «Sleep down you foolish son,
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| Sleep down and sleep on:
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| For it’s long ago that weary girl
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| Lies drownin' in the sea.»
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| «Well go saddle me the black horse,
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| The brown, and the gray;
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| Go saddle me the best horse
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| In my stable to-day!
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| And I’ll range over mountains,
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| Over valleys so wide,
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| Till I find the girl I love
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| And I’ll lay by her side.» |