lirik lagu rosie hood - outlandish knight
an outlandish knight from the north lands came
he came a~wooing of me
he told he’d take me to some north lands
and there he would marry me
“go fetch me some of your father’s gold
some of your mother’s fee
and two of the best of your father’s horse
where there stand thirty and three.”
i fetched him some of my father’s gold
some of my mother’s fee
and two of the best of my father’s horse
where there stood thirty and three
i mounted on my milk white steed
he rode the dappled grey
we rode till they came to the water side
six hours before it was day
“light off, light off thy milk~white steed
and deliver it unto me
for six pretty maidens i’ve drowned here
and the seventh one you shall be
“pull off, pull off thy silken gown
and deliver it unto me;
for it is not fitting that such g~y clothing
should rot in the salt, salt sea
“pull off, pull off thy silken stays
and deliver them unto me;
for it is not fitting that such g~y clothing
should rot in the salt, salt sea
“pull off, pull off thy holland smock
and deliver it unto me
for it is not fitting that such g~y clothing
should rot in the salt, salt sea.”
“if i’m to take off my holland smock
pray turn your back towards me
for it is not fitting that any young man
a naked lady should see.”
he turned his back upon me there
to view the leaves so green
i caught him around the middle so small
and tumbled him into the stream
he floated high and he floated low
till he came unto the side
“catch hold of my hand, my pretty fair maid
and i will make thee my bride.”
“lie there, lie there you false hearted man
lie there instead of me
for if six pretty maidens you’ve drowned here
but the seventh one hath drowned thee.”
i mounted on my milk white steed
and led the dappled grey
and i rode till i came to my father’s house
three hours before it was day
the parrot was perched high up in his cage
and hearing me enter did say
“what ails thee, what ails thee, my pretty fair maid?
you’re stirring so long before day.”
“don’t prittle, don’t prattle, my pretty polly
nor tell any tales of me
and your cage shall be made of the finest beaten gold
and the doors of the best ivory.”
my father being up in his chamber so high
and hearing the parrot did say
“what ails thee, what ails thee, my pretty poll parrot
thou’rt talking so long before day!”
“o master, o master,” replied the old parrot
“it’s no laughing matter!” cried he
“for the cat has just been and caught a poor mouse
and i’m afraid he will soon have me.”
“well turned, well turned, my pretty poll parrot
well turned, well turned for me!
now thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold
and the door of the best ivory.”
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