With grief and mourning I sit to spin; My Love passed by, and he didn't come in; He passes by me, both day and night, And carries off my poor heart's delight. There is a tavern in yonder town, My Love goes there and he spends a crown; He takes a strange girl upon his knee, And never more gives a thought to me. Says he, 'We'll wed without loss of time, And sure our love's but a little crime;'— My apron-string now it's wearing short, And my Love he seeks other girls to court. O with him I'd go if I had my will, I'd follow him barefoot o'er rock and hill; I'd never once speak of all my grief If he'd give me a smile for my heart's relief. In our wee garden the rose unfolds, With bachelor's-buttons and marigolds; I'll tie no posies for dance or fair, A willow-twig is for me to wear. For a maid again I can never be, Till the red rose blooms on the willow tree. Of such a trouble I've heard them tell, And now I know what it means full well. As through the long lonesome night I lie, I'd give the world if I might but cry; But I mus'n't moan there or raise my voice, And the tears run down without any noise. And what,
O what will my mother say? She'll wish her daughter was in the clay. My father will curse me to my face; The neighbours will know of my black disgrace. My sister's buried three years, come Lent; But sure we made far too much lament. Beside her grave they still say a prayer— I wish to God 'twas myself was there! The Candlemas crosses hang near my bed; To look at them puts me much in dread, They mark the good time that's gone and past: It's like this year's one will prove the last. The oldest cross it's a dusty brown, But the winter winds didn't shake it down; The newest cross keeps the colour bright; When the straw was reaping my heart was light. The reapers rose with the blink of morn, And gaily stook'd up the yellow corn; To call them home to the field I'd run, Through the blowing breeze and the summer sun. When the straw was weaving my heart was glad, For neither sin nor shame I had, In the barn where oat-chaff was flying round, And the thumping flails made a pleasant sound. Now summer or winter to me it's one; But oh! for a day like the time that's gone. I'd little care was it storm or shine, If I had but peace in this heart of mine. Oh! light and false is a young man's kiss, And a foolish girl gives her soul for this. Oh! light and short is the young man's blame, And a helpless girl has the grief and shame. To the river-bank once I thought to go, And cast myself in the stream below; I thought 'twould carry us far out to sea, Where they'd never find my poor babe and me. Sweet Lord, forgive me that wicked mind! You know I used to be well-inclined. Oh, take compassion upon my state, Because my trouble is so very great. My head turns round with the spinning wheel, And a heavy cloud on my eyes I feel. But the worst of all is at my heart's core; For my innocent days will come back no more.
