Lowlands Of Holland
anonyme
Originale | La seguente versione รจ la prima apparsa a stampa con il titolo... |
LOWLANDS OF HOLLAND Last night I was a-married, and on my marriage bed Up comes a bold sea captain and stood at my bed-head: Saying - Arise, arise, you married man, and come along with me To the lowlands of Holland, to fight your enemy She held her true love in her arms, still thinking he might stay But the Captain gave another shout, and he was forced away - O it's many a blithe young married man this night must go with me To the lowlands of Holland, for to fight the enemy O Holland is a wondrous place, and in it grows much green It's a wild inhabitation for my true love to be in There the sugar cane grows plentiful and the fruit on every tree But the lowlands of Holland is between my love and me But Ireland is a better place, a land of springy turf And all around McGilligan is the thunder of the surf And I would wish my true true love in Ireland for to be But the lowlands of Holland is between my love and me No shoes nor stockings I put on nor comb went in my hair And neither coal nor candle-light shone in my chamber there Nor will I marry with any young man until the day I die Since the lowlands of Holland are between my love and me | LOWLANDS OF HOLLAND THE SORROWFUL LOVER'S REGRATE LOWLANDS OF HOLLAND The very day I was married, That night I lay on my bed; A press gang came to my bedside These words to me they said: Arise, arise, arise, young man, And come along with me, with me, To the low, low lands of Holland, To face your enemy. But Holland is a cold place, A place where grows no green, And Holland is a cold place For my love to wander in. Though money had been as plentiful As leaves upon the tree, the tree Yet before I'd time to turn myself My love was stol'n from me. I'll build my love a gallant ship, A ship of noted fame. With four and twenty seamen bold To box her on the main. They'll rant and roar in sparkling glee, Where some ever they do go, do go, To the low, low lands of Holland, To face the daring foe. Says the mother to the daughter; What makes you to lament? O there are lords and dukes and squires Can ease your heart's content. But never will I married be Until the day I die, I die, since the low, low lands of Holland Have parted my love and me. There's not a swaithe goes round my waist Nor comb goes in my hair, Neither firelight nor candle light Can ease my heart's despair. And never will I married be Until the day I die, I die Since the low, low lands of Holland Have parted my love and me. |