Tune. Woes my heart that we should sunder.
When that I from my darling pass’d,
My love increas’d like young Leander,
With the parting kiss, the tears fell fast,
Crying, woes my heart that we should sunder.
O’er mountains, glens, and raging seas,
When wind and waves did roar like thunder,
Them I’d encounter again with ease,
That we were ne’er at all to sunder.
O yet I did to Malton go,
And left my darling Swain to wander;
Where was one friend, were fifty foe;
And I myself was then brought under.
By a rude band of bloody hue,
Because I lov’d a young Pretender;
If it were undone, I would it do,
O’er hills and dales, with him I’d wander.
From ship to ship, was toss’d about,
And to the Nore did me surrender;
Crouds of rude hands, I stood them out,
And lov’d none like my young Pretender.
To great London, I came at last,
And still avow’d my passion tender;
Thinking for death I would be cast,
For serving of my young Pretender.
But thanks be to the Georgian race,
And the English laws, I judg’d untender;
For they thought nought of all my case,
Although I lov’d a young Pretender.
They charg’d me to the Highlands go,
For womens’ wit, and strength was slender;
As I ne’er in arms appear’d as foe,
In defence of a young Pretender.
O were my Swain at Malton gate,
Or yet at Sky I’d be his lover;
In spite of all the laws of late,
I would call him sweet darling Rover.