Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Bonnie Mae , by - Solas. Song from the album The Hour Before Dawn, in the genre Музыка мираRelease date: 21.05.2006
Record label: Shanachie
Song language: English
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Bonnie Mae , by - Solas. Song from the album The Hour Before Dawn, in the genre Музыка мираBonnie Mae |
| Bonnie Mae a-shepherding has gone |
| To call the sheep to the fold |
| And aye, as she sang, her bonny voice, it rang |
| Right over the tops of the downs, downs |
| Over the tops of the downs |
| There came a troop of gentlemen |
| As they were riding by |
| And one of them has lighted down |
| And he’s asked of her the way, the way |
| He’s asked of her the way |
| «Ride on, ride on, you rank riders |
| Your steeds are stout and strong |
| For it’s out of the fold I will not go |
| For fear you’ll do me wrong, wrong |
| Fear you’ll do me wrong» |
| Now he’s taken her by the middle jip |
| And by the green gown sleeve |
| And there he’s had his will of her |
| And he’s asked of her no leave, no leave |
| He’s asked of her no leave |
| «Oh I’ve ridden east and I’ve ridden west |
| And I’ve ridden o’er the downs |
| But the bonniest lass that ever I saw |
| Is calling her sheep to the fold» |
| She has taken the milk pail on her head |
| And she’s gone lingering home |
| And all her father said to her |
| Was, «Daughter, you’ve done me wrong, wrong |
| Daughter, you’ve done me wrong» |
| Now twenty weeks were gone and past |
| Twenty weeks and three |
| And the lassie began to fret and to frown |
| And to long for his twinkling eye, bright eye |
| Long for his twinkling eye |
| Now it fell on a day, and a bonny summer’s day |
| For she walked out alone |
| That selfsame troop of gentlemen |
| Came riding o’er the downs, downs |
| Riding o’er the downs |
| «Who got the babe with thee, Bonnie Mae? |
| Who got the babe in thy arms?» |
| For shame she blushed and aye, she said |
| «Oh I’ve a good man of my own» |
| «You lie, you lie, you bonny, bonny Mae |
| So loud I hear you lie |
| Remember the misty, murky night |
| I lay in the fold with thee, with thee |
| I lay in the fold with thee |
| Now he’s lighted off his berry-brown steed |
| He’s set the fair Mae on |
| «Go call out your fold, good father, yourself |
| She’ll ne’er call them again, again |
| She’ll ne’er call them again» |
| For he’s the Lord of Achentrioch |
| With fifty plough and three |
| And he’s taken away the bonniest lass |
| In all the south country, country |
| In all the south country |
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