bardachd: (Default)
2012-05-31 12:52 am

Lord Randall

"Oh where ha'e ye been, Lord Randall my son?
O where ha'e ye been, my handsome young man?"
"I ha'e been to the wild wood: mother make my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."

"Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randall my son?"
Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?"
"I dined wi' my true love; mother make my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."

"What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randall my son?
What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?"
"I gat eels boiled in broo: mother make my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."

"What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randall my son?
What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?"
"O they swelled and they died: mother make my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."

"O I fear ye are poisoned, Lord Randall my son!
O I fear ye are poisoned, my handsome young man?"
"O yes I am poisoned: mother make my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down."
bardachd: (Default)
2010-09-02 11:30 pm
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I walk through the churchyard

I walk through the churchyard
I walk through the churchyard
To lay this body down;
I know moon-rise, I know star-rise;
I walk in the moonlight, I walk in the starlight;
I'll lie in the grave and stretch out my arms,
I'll go to judgement in the evening of the day,
And my soul and thy soul shall meet that day,
When I lay this body down.
bardachd: (Default)
2010-09-02 11:29 pm
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Sumerian hymn to the sun - trans. ZA Ragozin

Darkness has come upon me, painting, black, palpable; wipe it out, Dawn, like a debt.
bardachd: (Default)
2010-09-02 11:19 pm
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Child Ballad #104 - Prince Heathen

Prince Heathen

Young Margaret sat in a tower high
And she's as pale as a milk white swan
When she saw a shadow on the plain
Come betwixt her and the sun.

"Oh, mother, is it a thundercloud
Or a flight of ravens in the air,
Or a black army with a silver flag
And a ragged man amongst them there?"

"Oh, daughter, go run in your little yard
And bid adieu to your flowers so gay.
For yonder comes Prince Heathen's men
And I fear they're coming to take you away." Read more... )
bardachd: (Default)
2010-09-02 10:38 pm
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The Song of Baida

Baida, Baida drinks honey-horeevka
Not one day, not two days, not one night only.Read more... )