 | Ballads and Lyrics by Katharine Tynan |  |
101
GREEN GRAVEL.
A CHILD'S RHYME.
Green gravel! green gravel! the grass is so green
For the prettiest young fair maid that ever was seen.
We'll wash her in new-milk, and clothe her in pink,
And write down her name with a gold pen and ink.
For the prettiest young fair maid that ever was seen.
We'll wash her in new-milk, and clothe her in pink,
And write down her name with a gold pen and ink.
Her eyes are like diamonds, her hair is like wheat,
And her cheeks like the roses so dainty and sweet;
She'll have gowns of the velvet, and a gay golden comb,
And a ring on her finger, when her true love comes home.
And her cheeks like the roses so dainty and sweet;
She'll have gowns of the velvet, and a gay golden comb,
And a ring on her finger, when her true love comes home.
Green gravel! green gravel! your true love sends word
That he dons all his bravest and buckles on his sword,
And is coming to wed you, so preen you up fine,
Set the music a-going, and flowing the wine.
That he dons all his bravest and buckles on his sword,
And is coming to wed you, so preen you up fine,
Set the music a-going, and flowing the wine.
102
Now he comes for to marry her, we'll dress her in white,
Sprinkled over with daisies so golden and bright,
And a veil of fine silver we'll throw on her hair,
Lest the roses grow envious and die of despair.
Sprinkled over with daisies so golden and bright,
And a veil of fine silver we'll throw on her hair,
Lest the roses grow envious and die of despair.
But where is he tarrying, the gallant bridegroom?
For the priest 's in the parlour, and the bride in her room.
And the bridesmaids have left her to sigh her soft sigh,
To her tears, and her smiling, and her mother's good-bye.
For the priest 's in the parlour, and the bride in her room.
And the bridesmaids have left her to sigh her soft sigh,
To her tears, and her smiling, and her mother's good-bye.
Green gravel! green gravel! your true love is dead,
And he sends you a message to turn round your head;
And to turn on your pillow with your face to the wall,
You're a maid and a widow and no wife at all!
And he sends you a message to turn round your head;
And to turn on your pillow with your face to the wall,
You're a maid and a widow and no wife at all!
Cold, cold in her bride-clothes she lay down so meek,
With her hands on her bosom and her hair by her cheek;
Now come, ye fine gentlemen, and bear ye the bride
Where her bridegroom is sleeping. Let them sleep side by side!
With her hands on her bosom and her hair by her cheek;
Now come, ye fine gentlemen, and bear ye the bride
Where her bridegroom is sleeping. Let them sleep side by side!
| Ballads and Lyrics by Katharine Tynan | |