Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Blind Harper, artist - Kate Rusby. Album song Underneath The Stars, in the genre Музыка мира
Date of issue: 21.11.2010
Record label: Pure
Song language: English
The Blind Harper |
Have you heard of the blind harper, |
How he lived in Hogmaven town, |
How he went down to fair England, |
To steal King Henry’s wanton Brown. |
First he went unto his wife, |
With all the haste as go could he, |
This work he said it will never go well, |
Without the help of our good grey mare. |
Said she, you take the good grey mare, |
She’ll run o’er hills both low and high, |
Go take the halter in your hose, |
And leave the foal at home with me. |
He’s up and went to England gone, |
He went as fast as go could he, |
And when he got to Carlisle gates, |
Who should be there but King Henry. |
Come in, come in you blind harper, |
And of your music let me hear, |
But up and said the blind harper, |
I’d rather have a stable for my mare. |
The king looked over his left shoulder, |
And he said unto his stable groom, |
Go take the poor blind harper’s mare, |
And put her beside my wanton brown. |
Then he’s harped and then he sang, |
Til he played them all so sound asleep, |
And quietly he took off his shoes, |
And down the stairs he did creep. |
Straight to the stable door he’s gone, |
With a tread so light as light could be, |
And when he opened and went in, |
He found thirty steeds and three. |
He took the halter from his horse, |
And from his purse he did not fail, |
He slipped it over the wanton’s nose, |
And tied it to the grey mare’s tail. |
Then he let her loose at the castle gates, |
She didn’t fail to find her way, |
She went back to her own colt foal, |
Three long hours before the day. |
Then in the morning, at fair daylight, |
When they had ended all their cheer, |
Behold the wanton brown had gone, |
So had the poor blind harper’s mare. |
And oh, Alas, said the blind harper, |
Ever also that I came here, |
In Scotland I’ve got a little colt foal, |
In England they stole my good grey mare. |
Hold your tongue said King Henry, |
And all your mournings let them be, |
You shall get a far better mare, |
And well paid shall our colt foal be. |
Again he harped and again he sang, |
The sweetest music he let them hear, |
He was paid for a foal that he never lost, |
And three times over the good grey mare. |