Broomfield Hill-Martin Carthy/Dave Swarbrick

歌手 : Martin Carthy / Dave Swarbrick

专辑 : Walnut Creek: Live Recordings 1989-1996

语种 : 英语

时长 : 03:49

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TXT Broomfield Hill-Martin Carthy/Dave Swarbrick 文本歌词

Broomfield Hill - Martin Carthy/Dave Swarbrick

Now there was a Lord in the north country

He courted a lady gay

As they went riding side by side

A wager she did lay

Oh I'll wager you five hundred pound

Five hundred pound to one

That a maid I will go to the merry greenwood

And a maid I will return

And there she sat in her mother's bower garden

And then she made her moan

Saying should I go to the broomfield hill

Or should I stay at home

But up and spoke this witch woman

As she sat on alone

Saying you must go to the broomfield hill

And a maid you will return

Oh when you get to the broomfield hill

You'll find your love asleep

With his hawk his hound and his silk and satin gown

And his ribbons hanging down to his feet

And you pick the blossom from off the broom

The blossom that smells so sweet

And you must lay some down at the crown of his head

And more at the sole of his feet

So she's got away to the broomfield hill

And she found her love asleep

With his hawk his hound and his silk and satin gown

And his ribbons hanging down to his feet

And she's picked a blossom from off the broom

The blossom that smells so sweet

And she has laid some down at the crown of his head

And more at the sole of his feet

And she's pulled off her diamond ring

And she's pressed it in his right hand

For to let him know when he'd wakened from his sleep

That his love had been there at his command

And when she wake out of his sleep

And the birds began to sing

They can awaken awaken awaken monster

Your true love's been and gone

Oh where were you my gay goshawk

And where were you my steed

And where were you my good greyhound

Why did you not waken me

Oh I clapped with my wings master

And hold my bells I rang

I crying awaken awaken awaken master

Before this lady ran

And I stamped with my foot master

And I shook me bridle till it rang

But there was nothing at all would awaken you

Till she had been and gone

So haste ye haste ye me good white steed

For the come when she may be

Or all the birds of the broomfield hill

Shall eat their fill of thee

Oh you need not waste your good white steed

By racing to her home

But there's no bird flies faster through the wood

Than she fled through the broom