A REFUGE FOR POETS WHO WRITE IN THE LYRIC TRADITION,
WITH RHYME AND METER, WITH OR WITHOUT MUSIC
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BROOM O’ THE COWDENKNOWES
How blyth was I each morn tae see
My lass come o’er the hill.
She trippèd the burn and she ran tae me.
I met her with goodwill.
O the broom, the bonny bonny broom,
The broom o’ the Cowdenknowes.
Fain would I be in my ain country
Herding her father’s yowes.
We neither herded yowes nor lambs
As his herd near us lay.
She gathered all the sheep at night
And loved me all the day.
O the broom, the bonny bonny broom,
The broom o’ the Cowdenknowes.
Fain would I be in my ain country
Herding her father’s yowes.
Hard fate that I should banished be,
Gang wearily and mourn,
That I should love the fairest lass
That ever yet was born.
O the broom, the bonny bonny broom,
The broom o’ the Cowdenknowes.
Fain would I be in my ain country
Herding her father’s yowes.
Farewell, ye Cowdenknowes, farewell,
Farewell all pleasures there.
Tae wander by her side again
Is all I crave or care.
O the broom, the bonny bonny broom,
The broom o’ the Cowdenknowes.
Fain would I be in my ain country
Herding her father’s yowes.
Traditional Scottish
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