G
Communicated by Miss Margaret Reburn, as current in County Meath, Ireland, 1860-70.
1 She served them up, she served them down,
She served them up with wine,
But still she drank the clear spring water,
To keep her color fine.
2 'I must get up, she must sit down,
She must sit in my place,
Or else be torn by wild horses
And thrown over the gates.'
3 'You wont get up, she wont sit down,
She wont sit in your place,
Nor yet be torn by wild horses.
Nor thrown over the gates.'
4 She called up her seven sons,
By one, by two, by three:
'I wish you were all seven gray-hounds,
This night to worry me.'
5 'What ails you, fair Ellen? what ails you, fair?
Or why do you sigh and moan?'
'The hoops are off my wine hogsheads,
And my wine is overflown.'
H
From Dr Thomas Davidson. Aberdeenshire.
1 'But wha will bake my bridal bread,
An brew my bridal ale,
And wha will welcome my bride hame,
Is mair than I can tell.'