The Girl's Lamentation

With grief and mourning I sit to spin;
   My Love passed by, and he didn't come in;
   He passes by me, both day and night,
   And carries off my poor heart's delight.

   There is a tavern in yonder town,
   My Love goes there and he spends a crown;
   He takes a strange girl upon his knee,
   And never more gives a thought to me.

   Says he, 'We'll wed without loss of time,
   And sure our love's but a little crime;'—
   My apron-string now it's wearing short,
   And my Love he seeks other girls to court.

   O with him I'd go if I had my will,
   I'd follow him barefoot o'er rock and hill;
   I'd never once speak of all my grief
   If he'd give me a smile for my heart's relief.

   In our wee garden the rose unfolds,
   With bachelor's-buttons and marigolds;
   I'll tie no posies for dance or fair,
   A willow-twig is for me to wear.

   For a maid again I can never be,
   Till the red rose blooms on the willow tree.
   Of such a trouble I've heard them tell,
   And now I know what it means full well.

   As through the long lonesome night I lie,
   I'd give the world if I might but cry;
   But I mus'n't moan there or raise my voice,
   And the tears run down without any noise.

   And what, O what will my mother say?
   She'll wish her daughter was in the clay.
   My father will curse me to my face;
   The neighbours will know of my black disgrace.

   My sister's buried three years, come Lent;
   But sure we made far too much lament.
   Beside her grave they still say a prayer—
   I wish to God 'twas myself was there!

   The Candlemas crosses hang near my bed;
   To look at them puts me much in dread,
   They mark the good time that's gone and past:
   It's like this year's one will prove the last.

   The oldest cross it's a dusty brown,
   But the winter winds didn't shake it down;
   The newest cross keeps the colour bright;
   When the straw was reaping my heart was light.

   The reapers rose with the blink of morn,
   And gaily stook'd up the yellow corn;
   To call them home to the field I'd run,
   Through the blowing breeze and the summer sun.

   When the straw was weaving my heart was glad,
   For neither sin nor shame I had,
   In the barn where oat-chaff was flying round,
   And the thumping flails made a pleasant sound.

   Now summer or winter to me it's one;
   But oh! for a day like the time that's gone.
   I'd little care was it storm or shine,
   If I had but peace in this heart of mine.

   Oh! light and false is a young man's kiss,
   And a foolish girl gives her soul for this.
   Oh! light and short is the young man's blame,
   And a helpless girl has the grief and shame.

   To the river-bank once I thought to go,
   And cast myself in the stream below;
   I thought 'twould carry us far out to sea,
   Where they'd never find my poor babe and me.

   Sweet Lord, forgive me that wicked mind!
   You know I used to be well-inclined.
   Oh, take compassion upon my state,
   Because my trouble is so very great.

   My head turns round with the spinning wheel,
   And a heavy cloud on my eyes I feel.
   But the worst of all is at my heart's core;
   For my innocent days will come back no more.