Bonny May

Bonny May, a shepherding has gone

To call the sheep to the fold

And as she sang, her bonny voice it rang

Right over the tops of the downs, downs

Right over the tops of the downs

There came a troop of gentlemen

As they were riding by

And one of them has lighted down

And he's asked of her the way, way

And he's asked of her the way

Ride on, ride on, you rank riders

Your steeds are stout and strong

For it's out of the fold I will not go

For fear you do me wrong, wrong

For fear you do me wrong

Now he's taken her by the middle jimp

And by the green gown sleeve

And there he's had his will of her

And he's asked of her no leave, leave

And he's asked of her no leave

Now he's mounted on his berry brown steed

He soon o'erta'en his men

And one and all cried out to him

Oh, master, you tarried long, long

Oh, master, you tarried long

Oh, I've ridden East and I've ridden West

And I've ridden o'er the downs

But the bonniest lass that ever I saw

She was calling her sheep to the fold, fold

She's taken the milk pail on her head

And she's gone lingering home

And all her father said to her

Was daughter, you tarried long, long

Oh, daughter, you tarried long

Oh, woe be to your shepherd, father

He takes no care of the sheep

For he's builded the fold at the back of the down

And the fox has frightened me, me

And the fox has frightened me

Oh, there came a fox to the fold door

With twinkling eye so bold

And ere he'd taken the lamb that he did

I'd rather he'd taken them all, all

Now twenty weeks were gone and past

Twenty weeks and three

The lassie began to fret and to frown

And to long for the twinkling eye, bright eye

And to long for the twinkling eye

Now it fell on a day, on a bonny summer's day

That she walked out alone

That self-same troop of gentlemen

Come a-riding over the down, down

Come a-riding over the down

Who got the babe with thee, bonny May

Who got the babe in thy arms?

For shame, she blushed, and ay, she said

Oh, what good man my own, own

You lie, you lie, you bonny, bonny May

So loud I hear you lie

Remember the misty murky night

I lay in the fold with thee, thee

I lay in the fold with thee

Now he's mounted off his berry brown steed

He's sat the fair May on

Go call out your kye, father, yourself

She'll ne'er call them again, again

She'll ne'er call them again

Oh, he's Lord of twenty plough of land

Twenty plough and three

And he's taken away the bonniest lass

In all the South country, country

In all the South country