Читать книгу Songs of the West - S. (Sabine) Baring-Gould - Страница 30

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H.F.S.

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1

Beside the rolling ocean

One morning in the month of June,

The feathered warbling songsters

Were sweetly changing note and tune.

I overheard a damsel fair

Complain in words of bitter woe,

With tear on cheek, she thus did speak,

O for the bonny Bunch of Roses, O!

2

Then up and spake her lover

And grasped the maiden by the hand,

Have patience, fairest, patience!

A legion I will soon command.

I'll raise ten thousand soldiers brave

Thro' pain and peril I will go

A branch will break, for thy sweet sake,

A branch of the bonny Bunch of Roses, O!

3

Then sadly said his mother,

As tough as truest heart of oak,

That stem that bears the roses,

And is not easy bent or broke

Thy father he essayed it first

And now in France his head lies low;

For sharpest thorn, is ever borne

O by the bonny Bunch of Roses, O!

4

He raised a mighty army

And many nobles joined his throng

With pipe and banner flying

To pluck the rose, he march'd along:

The stem he found was far too tough

And piercing sharp, the thorn, I trow.

No blossom he rent from the tree

All of the bonny Bunch of Roses, O!

5

O mother, dearest mother!

I lie upon my dying bed,

And like my gallant father

Must hide an uncrowned, humbled head.

Let none henceforth essay to touch

That rose so red, or full of woe,

With bleeding hand he'll fly the Land

The land of the bonny Bunch of Roses, O!