X: 1
T: SAW YE MY FATHER
O: 1811
B: "Caledonian Musical Repository", 1811, p.279-281
F: http://digital.nls.uk/special-collections-of-printed-music/pageturner.cfm?id=87686121
Z: 2013 John Chambers <jc:trillian.mit.edu>
M: 2/4
L: 1/16
K: D
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zD | (D3E) F3 G | A4 A3 A | B4 e3 d |
w: O saw* ye my fa-ther? or say ye my
{d}c4 B2 A2 | d4 c3 d | {c}B6 A2 | A6 ::
w: mo-ther? Or saw ye my true-love John?
zG | (F>E) F3 d | {G}F4 E3 D | (E3D) E3 F |
w: I saw* na your fa-ther, I saw* na your
G4 A3 B | {B}A4 F3 A | (A2G2) (F2E2) | D6 :|
w: mo-ther, But I saw your true-*love* John.
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W:2.It's now ten at night, and the stars gie nae light.
W:    And the bells they ring, ding dang;
W:  He's met wi' some delay, that causeth him to stay.
W:    But he will be here ere lang.
%page 280
W:
W:3.The surly auld carl did naething but snarl,
W:    And Johnny's face it grew red;
W:  Yet tho' often he sigh'd, he ne'er a word reply'd,
W:    Till all were asleep in bed.
W:
W:4.Up Johnny rose, and to the door he goes,
W:    And gently tirled the pin:
W:  The lassie taking tent, unto the door she went,
W:    Then opened and let him in.
W:
W:5.And are ye come at last? and do I hold ye fast?
W:    And is my Johnny true?
W:  I hae nae time to tell, but sae lang's I like mysel,
W:    Sae lang shall I lo'e you.
W:
W:6.Flee up, flee up, my bonny grey cock,
W:    And craw when it is day;
W:  Your neck shall be like the bonny beaten gold.
W:    And your wings of the silver grey.
W:
W:7.The cock prov'd fause, and untrue he was,
W:    For he crew an hour o'er soon:
W:  The lassie thought it day when she sent her love away,
W:    And it was but a blink of the moon.
%page 281
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%: 2
T: FAIR JENNY
K:
W:1.Where are the joys I have met in the morning,
W:    That danc'd to the lark's early song?
W:  Where is the peace that awaited my wand'ring,
W:    At ev'ning the wild woods among?
W:
W:2.No more a-winding the course of yon river,
W:    And marking sweet flowerets so fair:
W:  No more I trace the light footsteps of pleasure,
W:    But sorrow and sad-sighing care.
W:
W:3.Is it that summer's forsaken our valleys,
W:    And grim surly winter is near?
W:  No, no, the bees humming round the gay roses
W:    Proclaim it the pride of the year.
W:
W:4.Fain would I hide what I fear to discover,
W:    Yet long, long too well have I known:
W:  All that has caused this wreck in my bosom,
W:    Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone.
W:
W:5.Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal,
W:    Nor hope dare a comfort bestow:
W:  Come then, enamour'd and fond of my anguish,
W:    Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe.
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