Lyrics

Oh, the Earl of Aboyne to London has gone And all his nobles with him Sad was the heart of his lady fair Because she could not go with him Oh, the Earl of Aboyne to London has gone And all his nobles with him Better he had stayed at home Or taken his lady with him And as she walked out upon the green Among the gentlewomen Sad was the letter that came to her hand That her lord was wed in London And as she looked over the castle wall She saw two boys a-running "What news, what news, my bonny little boys What news have you of London?" "Oh, good news, good news, my lady gay For the Earl of Aboyne is coming And ere he's within two miles of your walls You hear his bridles ringing" "Oh, my groom's all be well in call And happy days they are shining Oh, gone are days spent on the stays Since the lord of Aboyne is coming "And my mate's all be well in call And happier flowers are shining And cover the stair with herbs sweet and fair And the floors with the finest linen "And deck my body in the finest array And my hood of the brightest linen And my apron shall be of the good silk cloth Since the lord of Aboyne is coming" So stately she stepped down the stair To see if he was coming And her gown was of the good green silk Trimmed with her red silk trimming She's called to Kate, her waiting maid And Jean, her gentlewoman "Come fetch me a glass of the very best wine To drink his health, he's coming" She's gone out to the close to greet her lord Says, "Welcome for your coming" She's gone out to the close to greet her lord Says, "Thrice welcome from London" "Oh, if I be of this welcome as you say Then kiss me for my coming For tomorrow should have been my wedding day If I'd stayed any longer in London" Oh, she's turned then around with a look of distaste Says, "Woe's me for your coming Since tomorrow should have been your wedding day Then go kiss your whore in London" "My nobles, all come, mount your steed I'm sorry for my coming Tonight we shall lie at the bonny Bogie's side Since tomorrow the course is to London" "Oh Tom, my man, run after him And beg him to take me with him." "Oh, I've asked him once and I've asked him the more And it's never a mile you'll ride with him." Then a year and a day she lived in woe And the doctors they were dealing Until at last her heart it broke And letters were sent to London When he saw the letters all edged in black Oh, he's bound to grievest weeping "Oh, she is dead that I loved best And I had but a heart in keeping." There were fifteen of the noblest lords That London could provide him From their hose to their hat they were all dressed in black To mourn for bonny Peggy Irvine And the farther he rode the sorer he wept For he had but a heart in keeping "Oh, sooner I had lost all the lands of Aboyne Than my bonnie Peggy Irvine."
Writer(s): Trad, June Tabor Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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