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Geordie, or My Geordie Will Be Hanged In A Golden Chain

Anonymous
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1. LA “VERSIONE DI ROBERT BURNS” - 1792, Scottish Musical Mus...
Da jeg gik ud over Langebro
En tidlig mandag morgen
Der så jeg en, der stod og græd
Hvis du tør, så kom med mig

Jeg gik forbi dæmonernes port
Ud for Kofoed Skole
Der stod en flok og drak sig ihjel
Hvis du tør, så kom med mig

Jeg mødte en, der gik rundt med "Vågn Op"
Hun var Jehovas vidne
Hun råbte: "Jorden går under i dag"
Hvis du tør, ja-ja, så kom med mig
Ja, kom med mig, oh yeah

Jeg så en kvinde, der løb efter sin mand
Hun havde så skønne øjne
Hun råbte: "Hey, du har stjålet mit liv", yeah
Hvis du tør, så kom med mig
Hvis du tør, så kom med mig
Hvis du tør, så kom med mig
There was a battle in the north,
And nobles there was many,
And they hae kill’d Sir Charlie Hay,
And they laid the wyte on Geordie.

O he has written a lang letter,
He sent it to his lady;
“Ye maun cum up to Enbrugh town
To see what words o’ Geordie.”

When first she look’d the letter on,
She was baith red and rosy;
But she had na read a word but twa,
Till she wallow’t like a lily.

“Gar get to me my gude grey steed,
My menzie a’ gae wi’ me;
For I shall neither eat nor drink,
Till Enbrugh town shall see me.”

And she has mountit her gude grey steed,
Her menzie a’ gaed wi’ her;
And she did neither eat nor drink
Till Enbrugh town did see her.

And first appear’d the fatal block,
And syne the aix to head him;
And Geordie cumin down the stair,
And bands o’ airn upon him.

But tho’ he was chain’d in fetters strang,
O’ airn and steel sae heavy,
There was na ane in a’ the court,
Sae bra’ a man as Geordie.

O she’s down on her bended knee,
I wat she’s pale and weary,
“O pardon, pardon, noble king,
And gie me back my Dearie!

I hae born seven sons to my Geordie dear,
The seventh ne’er saw his daddie:
O pardon, pardon, noble king,
Pity a waefu’ lady!”

“Gar bid the headin-man mak haste!”
Our king reply’d fu’ lordly:
“O noble king, tak a’ that’s mine,
But gie me back my Geordie.”

The Gordons cam and the Gordons ran,
And they were stark and steady;
And ay the word amang them a’
Was, Gordons keep you ready.

An aged lord at the king’s right hand
Says, “Noble king, but hear me;
Gar her tell down five thousand pound
And gie her back her Dearie.”

Some gae her marks, some gae her crowns,
Some gae her dollars many;
And she’s tell’d down five thousand pound,
And she’s gotten again her Dearie.

She blinkit blythe in her Geordie’s face,
Says, “dear I’ve bought thee, Geordie:
But there sud been bluidy bouks on the green,
Or I had tint my laddie.

He claspit her by the middle sma’,
And he kist her lips sae rosy:
“The fairest flower o’ woman-kind
Is my sweet, bonie Lady!”


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