Tonalité : Bb major
Intro 1
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Young Johnson and the
Verse 1
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young Colonel,
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they sat drinking at the wye
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Oh, marry my sister, Johnson he said,
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and I will marry thine
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Your sister I will never wed,
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Not for all her golden land,
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But a mistress she will make of me,
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When I can bore the strand.
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In a rage then Johnson drew his sword,
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Which hung down by his knee,
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And he's pierced it through the
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young kernel,
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And we're no more spoken.
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Sir Johnson's a rare
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and his milk white steed,
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too, his sister has for me.
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For I have killed a young colonel,
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who you thought had loved thee.
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If you have killed my own true love,
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then woe be unto thee.
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For I do swear and do declare
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that hanged you shall be
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So John sent away on his
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milk -white steed
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to his true love's house when near
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Oh, I have killed a young Colonel,
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thine only brother is he
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If you have killed my brother, she said,
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then the sad and sore I'll be
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But together's for the younger now,
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and I do feel for Bill
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So come now, my dear Johnson,
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come in and take your sleep
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While I do walk the castle round,
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and careful watch I'll keep
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She had not walked the castle
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around a minute, but barely three,
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When four twenty -armoured men
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came ar riving o 'er the lay.
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Good morning, Margaret,
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good morning, then cried she
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Did you not see a bloody squire
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come a -riding by this way?
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If light brown was his hawk, she said,
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and if dark brown was his hound
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If no white horse is deadly steed,
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then he's new old from the town
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So the knights,
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they sent their spurs to horse,
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and they turned away from town
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Marked his way to the true love's bar,
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to tell him what she found
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There Johnson lay in a silent sleep,
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and he dreamed a girl were near
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Out is he drawn, his sword so sharp,
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and he's stabbed his lady care.
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What cause were this, my dear Johnson?
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What cause were this, cried she?
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Well, I thought it was my
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deadly foe
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that you'd entice to me
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But can you live, my dear Margaret,
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till the doctors can be found?
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How can I live then, Johnson,
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she said,
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when the blood comes trickling
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down?
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But take your sword in your hand
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and ride o 'er yonder plain
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And think no more of thy true love
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than if she'd never been
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He scarcely had gleaned out of the hall,
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Still recovered all in four,
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When four with twenty swords so sharp
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Had pinned him to the door.
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