LORNA FRANKLIN

Lyrics

 To listen to Lorna's recordings, go to:  

https://soundcloud.com/lorna-franklin-881070121

https://myspace.com/lornafranklin/music/songs

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCk42OBCkOpTu2ov4gdflsTg

 

Fear A’Bhata

 

Fear a’bhata ‘s na ho ro eile

Fear a’bhata ‘s na ho ro eile

Fear a’bhata ‘s na ho ro eile

So fare thee well, love, where e’er thou be

 

How often hunting the highest hilltop,

I scan the ocean your boat to see?

Will’t come today, love, will’t come tomorrow?

Or ever come, love, to comfort me?

 

There’s not a hamlet, but well I know it,

Where you go wand’ring, or rest awhile.

But all its old folks you win with talk, love,

And charm its maidens with song and smile.

 

Thou art a rover, my friends have told me,

But nonetheless to my heart I hold thee,

And every night, in my dreams, I hold thee,

Until at dawn do the visions flee.

 

My lover promised to bring his lady

A silken gown and a tartan plaidie,

A ring of gold which would show his semblance,

But, ah, I fear me, for his remembrance.

 

 

Geordie

 

As I walked out over London Bridge,

One misty morning early,

I overheard a fair pretty maid

Was lamenting the life of Geordie.

 

“Oh my Geordie will be hanged in a golden chain;

Tis not the chain of many;

He was born of kings’ royal blood

And courted a virtuous lady

 

“Go bridle me my milk white steed;

Go bridle me my pony.

I will ride to London’s court

To plead for the life of Geordie”

 

And as she rode into the courtyard

There were lords and ladies a-plenty

And all on her bended knee she fell

To plead for the life of Geordie.

 

“Oh my Geordie never stole nor cow nor calf;

He never hurted any.

Stole sixteen of the King’s royal deer

And he sold then in Bohenny.”

 

The judge looked over his left shoulder.

He said “Dear girl I’m sorry.”

He said “dear girl, you’ve come too late,

For he’s been condemned already.”

 

“Oh let Geordie hang in a golden chain;

Tis not the chain of many.

Stole sixteen of the King’s royal deer

And he sold them in Bohenny.

 

“Two pretty babies have I born.

The third lies in my body.

I’d freely part with them everyone

To spare the life of Geordie.”

 

 

Jock O’ Hazeldean

'Why weep ye by the tide, lady,
Why weep ye by the tide?
I'll wed you to my youngest son,
And you shall be his bride:
And you shall be his bride, lady
So comely to be seen' 
But aye she let the tears downfa'
For Jock o' Hazeldean.

'A coat of gold you shall not lack,
Nor comb to bind you hair,
Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,
Nor palfrey fresh and fair.
And you, the fairest of them a'
Shall ride our forest queen.'
But aye she let the tears downfa'
For Jock o' Hazeldean.

'Now let this willful grief be done,
And dry those cheeks so pale;
Young Frank is chief of Erthington,
And lord of Langleydale;
His step is first in peaceful ha',
His sword in battle keen' -
But aye she let the tears downfa'
Foe Jock of Hazeldean.

The kirk was deck'd at morning tide,
The tapers glimmer'd fair.
The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,
And dame and knight were there.
They searched for her in bower and ha'
The lady was not seen.
She's o'er the border and away,
With Jock o' Hazeldean.

 

 

Moonshiner

 

I’ve been a moonshiner for seventeen long years.

I’ve spent all my money on whiskey and beer.

I’ll go to some hollow and set up my still

And if whiskey don’t kill me then I don’t know what will.

 

I’ll go to some bar room and drink with my friends

Where the women can’t follow and see what I spend.

I love them pretty women; I wish they were mine;

Their breath is as sweet as the dew on the vine.

 

Let me eat when I’m hungry, drink when I’m dry,

Give me money when I’m hard up, religion when I die,

For the whole worlds a bottle and life’s but a dram;

When the bottle gets empty, it ain’t worth a damn.

 

Motherless Child

 

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child

A long long way from home

 

Sometimes I wish that I could fly

Sometimes I wish that I could fly

Sometimes I wish that I could fly

A long long way from home

 

Sometimes I feel like freedom is near

Sometimes I feel like freedom is near

Sometimes I feel like freedom is near

A long long way from home

 

Sometimes I feel like the kingdom is near

Sometimes I feel like the kingdom is near

Sometimes I feel like the kingdom is near

A long long way from home

 

She Moved Through The Fair

 

My young love said to me,

“My mother won’t mind,

And my father won’t slight you,

For your lack of kind,”

And she stepped away from me,

And this she did say,

“It will not be long, love,

Till our wedding day.”

 

Then she turned away from me,

And she moved through the fair.

So fondly I watched her

Move here and move there,

And then she went homeward

With one star awake,

Like the swan in the evening

Moves over the lake.

 

The people were saying,

No two were e’er wed,

But one had a sorrow

That never was said.

I smiled as she passed me,

With her goods and her gear,

And that was the last that

I saw of my dear.

 

Last night she came to me,

My dead love came in.

So softly she came

That her feet made no din,

And she laid her hand on me

And this she did say,

“It will not be long, love,

Till our wedding day.”

 

The Silkie Of Sule Skerrie

 

There sits a maid down by the sea strand,

And “Hush-a-lu-lay” this maid began,

“And little know I my baby’s father

Far less the land that he dwells in.”

 

Oh he came one night to her bed feet

And a grumbly guest I’m sure was he,

Saying, “Here I am, thy baby’s father,

Although I be not comely.

 

“I am a man upon dry land.

I am a Silkie on the sea

And when I’m far from any strand,

My dwelling is in Sule Skerrie.”

 

And he has taken a chain of gold,

And he has placed it on her knee,

Saying “Give to me my little young son

And take thee up thy nursing fee.

 

“And you shall marry a gunner good,

And a very fine gunner, I’m sure he’ll be,

And the very first shot that e’er he fires

Will kill both my young son & me.”

 

And she has married a gunner good,

And a very fine gunner, it was he.

And he went out on a May morning

And he shot both the son and the Great Silkie. 

 

Wayfaring Stranger

 

I am a poor wayfaring stranger

Travelling through this world of woe

And there’s no sickness, no toil nor danger

In that bright world to which I go

 

I’m going there to see my father

I’m going there no more to roam

I’m only going over Jordan

I’m only going over home

 

I know dark clouds will gather round me

I know my way is rough and steep

But golden fields lie down before me

Where god’s redeemed shall ever sleep

 

I’m going there to see my mother

She said she’d meet me when I come

I’m only going over Jordan

I’m only going over home

 

I’ll soon be free from every trial

My body sleep in the churchyard

I’ll drop the cross of self denial

And enter on my great reward

 

I’m going there to see my saviour

To sing his praise for ever more

I’m only going over Jordan

I’m only going over home