Bonnie Mae Lyrics

Song	Bonnie Mae
Artist	Solas
Album	The Hour Before Dawn
Download	Image LRC TXT

	作词 : Traditional
	Bonnie Mae a-shepherding has gone
	To call the sheep to the fold
	And aye, as she sang, her bonny voice, it rang
	Right over the tops of the downs, downs
	Over the tops of the downs
	There came a troop of gentlemen
	As they were riding by
	And one of them has lighted down
	And he's asked of her the way, the way
	He's asked of her the way
	"Ride on, ride on, you rank riders
	Your steeds are stout and strong
	For it's out of the fold I will not go
	For fear you'll do me wrong, wrong
	Fear you'll do me wrong"
	Now he's taken her by the middle jip
	And by the green gown sleeve
	And there he's had his will of her
	And he's asked of her no leave, no leave
	He's asked of her no leave
	"Oh I've ridden east and I've ridden west
	And I've ridden o'er the downs
	But the bonniest lass that ever I saw
	Is calling her sheep to the fold"
	She has taken the milk pail on her head
	And she's gone lingering home
	And all her father said to her
	Was, "Daughter, you've done me wrong, wrong
	Daughter, you've done me wrong"
	Now twenty weeks were gone and past
	Twenty weeks and three
	And the lassie began to fret and to frown
	And to long for his twinkling eye, bright eye
	Long for his twinkling eye
	Now it fell on a day, and a bonny summer's day
	For she walked out alone
	That selfsame troop of gentlemen
	Came riding o'er the downs, downs
	Riding o'er the downs
	"Who got the babe with thee, Bonnie Mae?
	Who got the babe in thy arms?"
	For shame she blushed and aye, she said
	"Oh I've a good man of my own"
	"You lie, you lie, you bonny, bonny Mae
	So loud I hear you lie
	Remember the misty, murky night
	I lay in the fold with thee, with thee
	I lay in the fold with thee
	Now he's lighted off his berry-brown steed
	He's set the fair Mae on
	"Go call out your fold, good father, yourself
	She'll ne'er call them again, again
	She'll ne'er call them again"
	For he's the Lord of Achentrioch
	With fifty plough and three
	And he's taken away the bonniest lass
	In all the south country, country
	In all the south country

	zuo ci : Traditional
	Bonnie Mae ashepherding has gone
	To call the sheep to the fold
	And aye, as she sang, her bonny voice, it rang
	Right over the tops of the downs, downs
	Over the tops of the downs
	There came a troop of gentlemen
	As they were riding by
	And one of them has lighted down
	And he' s asked of her the way, the way
	He' s asked of her the way
	" Ride on, ride on, you rank riders
	Your steeds are stout and strong
	For it' s out of the fold I will not go
	For fear you' ll do me wrong, wrong
	Fear you' ll do me wrong"
	Now he' s taken her by the middle jip
	And by the green gown sleeve
	And there he' s had his will of her
	And he' s asked of her no leave, no leave
	He' s asked of her no leave
	" Oh I' ve ridden east and I' ve ridden west
	And I' ve ridden o' er the downs
	But the bonniest lass that ever I saw
	Is calling her sheep to the fold"
	She has taken the milk pail on her head
	And she' s gone lingering home
	And all her father said to her
	Was, " Daughter, you' ve done me wrong, wrong
	Daughter, you' ve done me wrong"
	Now twenty weeks were gone and past
	Twenty weeks and three
	And the lassie began to fret and to frown
	And to long for his twinkling eye, bright eye
	Long for his twinkling eye
	Now it fell on a day, and a bonny summer' s day
	For she walked out alone
	That selfsame troop of gentlemen
	Came riding o' er the downs, downs
	Riding o' er the downs
	" Who got the babe with thee, Bonnie Mae?
	Who got the babe in thy arms?"
	For shame she blushed and aye, she said
	" Oh I' ve a good man of my own"
	" You lie, you lie, you bonny, bonny Mae
	So loud I hear you lie
	Remember the misty, murky night
	I lay in the fold with thee, with thee
	I lay in the fold with thee
	Now he' s lighted off his berrybrown steed
	He' s set the fair Mae on
	" Go call out your fold, good father, yourself
	She' ll ne' er call them again, again
	She' ll ne' er call them again"
	For he' s the Lord of Achentrioch
	With fifty plough and three
	And he' s taken away the bonniest lass
	In all the south country, country
	In all the south country

	zuò cí : Traditional
	Bonnie Mae ashepherding has gone
	To call the sheep to the fold
	And aye, as she sang, her bonny voice, it rang
	Right over the tops of the downs, downs
	Over the tops of the downs
	There came a troop of gentlemen
	As they were riding by
	And one of them has lighted down
	And he' s asked of her the way, the way
	He' s asked of her the way
	" Ride on, ride on, you rank riders
	Your steeds are stout and strong
	For it' s out of the fold I will not go
	For fear you' ll do me wrong, wrong
	Fear you' ll do me wrong"
	Now he' s taken her by the middle jip
	And by the green gown sleeve
	And there he' s had his will of her
	And he' s asked of her no leave, no leave
	He' s asked of her no leave
	" Oh I' ve ridden east and I' ve ridden west
	And I' ve ridden o' er the downs
	But the bonniest lass that ever I saw
	Is calling her sheep to the fold"
	She has taken the milk pail on her head
	And she' s gone lingering home
	And all her father said to her
	Was, " Daughter, you' ve done me wrong, wrong
	Daughter, you' ve done me wrong"
	Now twenty weeks were gone and past
	Twenty weeks and three
	And the lassie began to fret and to frown
	And to long for his twinkling eye, bright eye
	Long for his twinkling eye
	Now it fell on a day, and a bonny summer' s day
	For she walked out alone
	That selfsame troop of gentlemen
	Came riding o' er the downs, downs
	Riding o' er the downs
	" Who got the babe with thee, Bonnie Mae?
	Who got the babe in thy arms?"
	For shame she blushed and aye, she said
	" Oh I' ve a good man of my own"
	" You lie, you lie, you bonny, bonny Mae
	So loud I hear you lie
	Remember the misty, murky night
	I lay in the fold with thee, with thee
	I lay in the fold with thee
	Now he' s lighted off his berrybrown steed
	He' s set the fair Mae on
	" Go call out your fold, good father, yourself
	She' ll ne' er call them again, again
	She' ll ne' er call them again"
	For he' s the Lord of Achentrioch
	With fifty plough and three
	And he' s taken away the bonniest lass
	In all the south country, country
	In all the south country

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