Hark! The Village Wait
Album - 1970 - Debaser id 6080

a blacksmith courted me, nine months and better.
he fairly won my heart, wrote me a letter.
with his hammer in his hand, he looked so clever,
and if i was with my love, i'd live forever.

and where is my love gone, with his cheek like roses,
and his good black billycock on, decked with primroses?
i'm afraid the scorching sun will shine and burn his beauty,
and if i was with my love, i'd do my duty.

strange news is come to town, strange news is carried,
strange news flies up and down that my love is married.
i wish them both much joy, though they don't hear me
and may god reward him well for the slighting of me.

'what did you promise when you sat beside me?
you said you would marry me, and not deny me.'
'if i said i'd marry you, it was only for to try you,
so bring your witness, love, and i'll never deny you.'

'oh, witness have i none save god almighty.
and he'll reward you well for slighting of me.'
her lips grew pale and white, it made her poor heart tremble
to think she loved one, and he proved deceitful.

Oh, it's in the evening after dark,
When the blackleg miner creeps to work,
With his moleskin pants and dirty shirt,
There goes the blackleg miner!

Well he grubs his dugs and down he goes
To hue the coal that lies below,
There's not a woman in this town-row
Will look at the blackleg miner.

Oh, Delaval is a terrible place.
They rub wet clay in a blackleg's face,
And around the heaps they run a foot race,
There goes the backleg miner!

So, don't go near the Seghill mine.
Across the way they stretch a line,
To catch the throat and break the spine
Of the dirty backleg miner.

Well he grubs his dugs and his stick as well,
And he hoys them down the pit of hell.
It's down you go, and fare you well,
You dirty blackleg miner!

So join the union while you may.
Don't wait till your dying day,
For that may not be far away,
You dirty blackleg miner!

on a fine eve'n fair in the month of avril
o'er the hill came the man with the blythe sunny smile
and the folks they were throngin' the roads everywhere
makin' haste to be in at copshawholme fair

i've seen 'em a-comin' in from the mountains and glens
those rosy-faced lasses and strappin' young men
with a joy in their heart and unburdened o' care
a'meetin' old friends at copshawholme fair

there are lads for the lasses, there's toys for the bairns
there jugglers and tumblers and folks with no arms
there's a balancing act here and a fiddler there
there are nut-men and spice-men at copshawholme fair

there are peddlers and potters and gingerbread stands
there are peepshows and poppin-darts and the green caravans
there's fruit from all nations exhibited there
with kale plants from orange at copshawholme fair

and now above all the hiring if you want to hear tell
you should ken it as afar i've seen it myself
what wages they adle it's ill to declare
the muckle they vary at copshawholme fair

just the gal i have seen she's a strapping young queen
he asked what her age was and where she had been
what work she'd been doin', how long she'd been there
what wages she wanted at copshawholme fair

just then the bit lass stood a wee while in gloom
and she blushed and she scraped with her feet on the ground
then she plucked up her heart and did stoutly declare
well, a five pound and turn at copshawholme fair

says he, but me lass, that's a very big wage
then he'd turning about like he been in a rage
says, i'll give ye five pounds but i'll give ye nay mare
well i think him and tuck it at copshawholme fair

he took out a shilling but to haul the bit wench
in case it might enter her head for to flinch
but she grabbed it muttering i should have had mare
but i think i will tuck it at copshawholme fair

now the hirin's o'er and off they all sprang
into the ballroom for to join in the throng
and "i never will lie with my mammy nae mair"
the fiddles play briskly at copshawholme fair

now this is the fashion they thus passed the day
till the night comin' on they all hurry away
and some are so sick that they'll never join more
with the fighting and dancing at copshawholme fair

All things are quite silent, each mortal at rest,
When me and my true love got snug in one nest,
When a bold set of ruffians broke into our cave,
And they forced my dear jewel to plough the salt wave.

I begged hard for my darling as I would for my life.
They'd not listen to me although a fond wife,
Saying the king must have sailors, to the seas he must go,
And they've left me lamenting in sorrow and woe.

Through green fields and meadows we ofttimes have walked,
And the fond recollections together have talked,
Where the lark and the blackbird so sweetly did sing,
And the lovely thrushes' voices made the valleys to ring.

Now although I'm forsaken I won't be be cast down.
Who knows but my true love some day may return?
And will make me amends For all trouble and strife,
And me and my true love might live happy for life.

One fine winter's morn my horn I did blow
To the green fields of Keady for hours we did go
We gathered our dogs and we circled around
For none loves the sport better than the boys in the dell.

And when we arrived they were all standing there
We set off for the fields, boys, in search of a hare
We didn't get far till someone gave the cheer
Over high hills and valleys the sweet puss did steer

As we flew o'er the hills, 'twas a beautiful sight
There was dogs black and yellow, there was dogs black and white
As she took the black bank for to try them once more
Oh it was her last look o'er the hills of Greenmore.

In a field of wheat stubble this pussy did lie
And Rory and Charmer they did pass her by
And there where we stood at the top of the brae
We heard the last words that this sweet puss did say:

“No more o'er the green fields of Keady I'll roam
Nor trip through the fields, boys, in sport and in fun
Or hear the long horn that your toner does play
I'll go home to my den by the clear light of day.”

You may blame ol' MacMahon for killing the hare
For he's at his ol' capers this many's a year
On Saturday and Sunday he never gives o'er
With a pack of strange dogs round the hills of Greenmore.

My Johnny was a shoemaker and did he love me
My Johnny was a shoemaker but now he's gone to sea
With pitch and tar to soil his hands
And to sail across the sea, stormy sea
And sail across the stormy sea

His jacket was a deep sky-blue and curly was his hair
His jacket was a deep sky-blue, it was a do declare
For to reeve the top sails up against the mast
And to sail across the sea, stormy sea
And sail across the stormy sea

Some day he'll be a captain bold with a brave and a gallant crew
Some day he'll be a captain bold with a sword and spy glass too
And when he has his gallant captain's sword
He'll come home and marry me, marry me
He'll come home and marry me

the love that i have chosen i therewith be content
the salt sea shall be frozen before that i repent
repent it shall i never until the day i dee
but the lowlands of holland has twined my love and me.

my love lies in the salt sea and i am on the side
it's enough to break a young thing's heart that lately was a bride.
but lately was a bonny bride with pleasure in her e'e.
but the lowlands of holland has twined my love and me.

my love he built a bonny ship and set her on the sea
with seven score good mariners to bear her company.
but there's three score of them is sunk and three score dead at sea
and the lowlands of holland has twined my love and me.

my love has built another (or: a nether) ship and set her on the sea
and nane but twenty mariners all for to bring her hame.
but the weary wind began to rise, the sea began to roll
and my love then and his bonny ship turned with the shins about.

there shall nae a quiff come on my head nor comb come in my hair
there shall neither coal nor candlelight shine in my bower mair.
and neither will i marry until the day i dee
for i never had a love but one and he's drowned in the sea.

oh hold your tongue my daughter dear, be still and be content.
there's men enough in galloway, you need not sore lament.
oh there's men enough in galloway, alas there's none for me
for i never had a love but one and he's drowned in the sea.

As I was walking all alane
I heard twa corbies makin' mane
And one ontae the other did say
Where shall we gang and dine the day
Where shall we gang and dine the day

In behind yon oul fail dyke
I wot there lies a new slain knight
And naebody kens that he lies there
But his hawk and his hound and his lady fair
His hawk and his hound and his lady fair

His hawk is tae the hunting gane
His hound to fetch the wild fowl hane
His lady has taken another mate
So we can make our dinner sweet
We can make our dinner sweet

You can sit on his white breast bone
And I'll pick out his bonny blue e'en
And with a lock of his yellow hair
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare

And many's a one for him makes mane
Naebody kens where he has gane
Through his white bones when they grow bare
The wind shall blow forever mare
The wind shall blow forever mare

(theek=feather our nest)