 | Cuckoo songs |  |
76
Gramachree
Tis I would be flying across the high hills,
Or tracking, unresting, the amber-clear rills
That flow to the river and on to the sea:
O 'tis fain I'd be following my own Gramachree!
Or tracking, unresting, the amber-clear rills
That flow to the river and on to the sea:
O 'tis fain I'd be following my own Gramachree!
Where'er he is wandering, in France or in Spain,
The noble fair ladies will turn round again
For a sight of my true love; and the tall chevaliers
May go clanking unheeded their spurs and their spears.
The noble fair ladies will turn round again
For a sight of my true love; and the tall chevaliers
May go clanking unheeded their spurs and their spears.
Gramachree, with your love-locks still flowing so free,
Your laced coat and doublet, my brave Gramachree,
Your hat with fine feathers, your eyes blue and bold,
'Tis yourself might be marrying the Queen and her gold!
Your laced coat and doublet, my brave Gramachree,
77
'Tis yourself might be marrying the Queen and her gold!
But at home in a valley your true maiden lives:
O 'tis lonely that valley of mornings and eves,
With the dove's lonesome crooning, and the wind's silken sigh,
And the voice that will whisper, ‘If your true Love should die!’
O 'tis lonely that valley of mornings and eves,
With the dove's lonesome crooning, and the wind's silken sigh,
And the voice that will whisper, ‘If your true Love should die!’
O come home from the wars, then: there are roses for you,
And a dish of red strawberries gathered in dew,
A comb of gold honey, and wine of the best,
And a head of dark ringlets to lie on your breast.
And a dish of red strawberries gathered in dew,
A comb of gold honey, and wine of the best,
And a head of dark ringlets to lie on your breast.
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