Читать книгу Songs of the West - S. (Sabine) Baring-Gould - Страница 9

1

All the trees they are so high,

The leaves they are so green,

The day is past and gone, sweet-heart,

That you and I have seen.

It is cold winter's night,

You and I must bide alone:

Whilst my pretty lad is young

And is growing.

2

In a garden as I walked,

I heard them laugh and call;

There were four and twenty playing there,

They played with bat and ball.

O the rain on the roof,

Here and I must make my moan:

Whilst my pretty lad is young

And is growing.

3

I listened in the garden,

I looked o'er the wall;

Amidst five and twenty gallants there

My love exceeded all.

O the wind on the thatch,

Here and I alone must weep:

Whilst my pretty lad is young

And is growing.

4

O father, father dear,

Great wrong to me is done,

That I should married be this day,

Before the set of sun.

At the huffle of the gale,

Here I toss and cannot sleep:

Whilst my pretty lad is young

And is growing.

5[4]

My daughter, daughter dear,

If better be, more fit,

I'll send him to the court awhile,

To point his pretty wit.

But the snow, snowflakes fall,

O and I am chill as dead:

Whilst my pretty lad is young

And is growing.

6[5]

To let the lovely ladies know

They may not touch and taste,

I'll bind a bunch of ribbons red

About his little waist.

But the raven hoarsely croaks,

And I shiver in my bed;

Whilst my pretty lad is young

And is growing.

7

I married was, alas,

A lady high to be,

In court and stall and stately hall,

And bower of tapestry,

But the bell did only knell,

And I shuddered as one cold:

When I wed the pretty lad

Not done growing.

8

At seventeen he wedded was,

A father at eighteen,

At nineteen his face was white as milk,

And then his grave was green;

And the daisies were outspread,

And buttercups of gold,

O'er my pretty lad so young

Now ceased growing.