Yet another song that takes place “one morning in May.” In this case smooth-talking young man takes advantages of a young woman out in the countryside. Great singing, as always, from Christa Burch.
One Morning in May
One morning in May, as I carelessly did stray
to view the green meadows, and the lambs sport and play,
in the clear morning dew, as I lay down to muse,
a fair maiden of honour appeared in my view.
Says I, “Pretty maid, how happy we could be
for it is so ordained, love, that married we should be.
Let me not see you frown, for this heart is your own.”
But as these words were spoken, sure the tears trickled down.
“Come dry up your tears. You have nothing to fear.
I have roamed through the green fields for many’s the long year.”
But as the birds sang so sweet, this young man proved his deceit,
saying, “Adieu, pretty fair maid. We shall never more meet.”
“With my snuffbox and cane, the whole world I would range,
like Venus or Diana in search of her swain.
While the moon does shine clear, I will mourn my dear
over mountains, clear fountains, where no-one would hear.”
“And there’s one thing I know; and that before I go.
I shall never return, love, to hear your sad woe.
And there’s another thing I know; and that before I go.
That the ranger and the stranger have many’s the foe.”
T with the Maggies perform this song from Donegal.
‘Stór, A Stór, A Ghrá
A stór, a stór, a ghrá
A stór, a stór an dtiocfaidh tú?
A stór, a stór, a grhá
An dtiocfaidh tú nó an bhfanfaidh tú?
Bhí me lá breá samhraidh i mo sheasamh ar an mhargadh
‘S is iomai fear a dúirt lion: “Monuar, gan tú sa bhaile agam”.
Gheall mo ghrá domsa cinnte go dtiocfadh si
Ni raibh a culaith Déanta agus sin an rud a choinnigh i
Thart tóin an gharrai, a Mháire, bhfuil an fhidil leat?
Aicearra na bprátai go dtéimid’ sair an fhidileoir
Mhí mise lán den tsaoil is bhi cion amuigh is istigh orm
Nach mór a dáthraigh an saol nuair nach bhfuil eion ag duine ar bith orm?
A great performance by a great band. Here is the Bothy Band’s version of My Bonnie Blue-Eyed Lassie, sometimes called How Can I Live at the Top of the Mountain.
My Bonnie Blue-Eyed Lassie
And how can I live at the top of the mountain
Without gold in my pocket or money for the counting?
I’d leave the money go all for to please her fancy
For I will marry no-one but the bonnie blue eyed lassie.
The bonnie blue eyed lassie with her fair hair so tender,
Her red rosy cheeks and her waist neat and slender.
I’d roll her in my arms and fondly’d embrace her
But how can I love her when all my people hate her.
Some people say she’s very low in station
More of them say she’s the cause of my ruination,
Lord, let them all say what they will, to her I will prove constant still.
Until the day that I die she’s my charming girl believe me.
Brightly swims the swan in the broad streams of Eochill
And loudly sings the nightingale, all for to behold her.
And in cold frost and snow, the moon shines deeply
But deeper by far between me and my true love.