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Ewan MacColl - The Douglas Tragedy текст песни

Исполнитель: Ewan MacColl

альбом: Ballads


"Rise up, rise up, Lord Douglas," she cried,
"And put on your armour bright;
Let it never be said that a dochter o' yours
Was married to a lord or knight.
"Rise up, rise up, my sieven bonnie sons,
And pit on your armour bright,
And tak' better care o' your youngest sister,
For the eldest's awa' last night."
Lord William looked ower his broad shouther,
It made him blink his e'e,
And there he saw her sieven brithers
Riding ower the lea.
"Get doon, get doon, Lady Margaret," he said,
"And hold my horse in your hand,
For I must fight your seven brithers
And against your faither stand."
She took his horse in her milk-white hand,
And never a tear did fa'
Until she saw her sieven brothers slain
And her father like tae fa'.
"O, haud your hand, Lord William," she said,
"For your straikes are wondrous sair.
There's mony a lad that I can get
But a faither I'll never get mair."
"Then choose, then choose, Lady Margaret," he said,
"You maun choose for tae gang or tae bide."
"I'll ride wi' you, Lord William," she said,
"For you've left me no other guide."
They rode on and further on,
They rode by the licht of the moon,
Until they cam' to the bonnie burn side,
And there they ha'e lichted doon.
He lichted doon tae tak' a drink
O' the water that ran sae clear,
An' doon the stream ran his hairt's blood,
And sair she began tae fear.
"Rise up, rise up, Lord William," she said,
"For I fear ye are slain."
"'Tis naethin' but the shadow of my scarlet coat
That shines in the water sae plain."
They rode on and further on,
They rode by the licht of the moon,
Until they cam' to his mither's ha' door,
And there they ha'e lichted doon.
"Rise up, rise up, lady mither," he said,
"O, rise and let us in;
Rise up, rise up, lady mither," he said,
"That the soonder we may sleep."
Lord William died in the middle o' the night,
Lady Margaret she died on the morrow;
Lord William died for the sake o' his bride,
Lady Margaret she died for sorrow.
Lord William was buried in the old Kirk yard,
Lady Margaret in Mary's quire,
On the one there grew a bonnie myrtle tree,
On the other a bonnie sweet briar.
They grew and they grew and sae high that they grew
Till they could grow not higher,
And they grew taegether in a true-love knot,
For true lovers tae admire.

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