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Lady Margaret she sits in her bower sewing, |
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Baba and a lily-va, |
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When she saw the knight with his horn a-blowing, |
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On the very first morning of May. |
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"Oh would your lord would give to me rest, |
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And it's baba and a lily-va, |
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And that young knight lay here on my breast, |
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On the very first morning of May." |
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Now the lady she had these words scarce spoken, |
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And baba and a lily-va, |
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When in at her window the knight come a-jumping, |
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On the very first morning of May. |
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"Oh strange it is, oh strange, young woman, |
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And baba and a lily-va, |
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I can scarce blow my horn but I hear you a-calling, |
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On the very first morning of May." |
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"Go get you gold from your father's table, |
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Deliver it all unto me, |
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And the two fastest horses in your father's stable, |
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Where there stand thirty and three." |
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Now she's mounted her up on the black, black horse, |
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And he's rode on the dapple grey. |
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And they rode till they come to the broad seaside, |
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Just three hours before it was day. |
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"Light down, light down off your horse, " he cries, |
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"And deliver him up unto me. |
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For it's six pretty maids I have drowned here, |
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And the seventh one you shall be." |
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"Take off, take off all your clothes," he cries, |
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"And deliver them all unto me. |
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For they are too fine and costly robes |
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For to rot in the salt salt sea." |
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"Light down, light down off your horse," she cries, |
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"And turn your back unto me. |
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For it's not fitting that any gentleman |
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A naked lady should see." |
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So he's lighted him down off his horse so high, |
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And he's turned his back unto she, |
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And she's catched him around his middle so small, |
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And she's tumbled him all down in the sea. |
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Sometimes he sank, sometimes he swam, |
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And it's baba and a lily-va, |
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"Oh help, oh help, o you pretty fair maid, |
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Or drownded I shall be." |
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"Lie there, lie there, o you false young man, |
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Lie there instead of me, |
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For it's six pretty maids you have drownded here, |
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And the seventh one have drownded thee." |
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So she's mounted her up on the black, black horse, |
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And she's led the dapple grey, |
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And she's rode till she come to her father's yard |
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Just an hour before it was day. |
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And a parrot sitting up at his window so high, |
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And baba and a lily-va, |
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"Oh where have you been my pretty mistress, |
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So long before it is day." |
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"Don't you prittle, don't you prattle, o my pretty Polly, |
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Don't tell no tales on me, |
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And your cage shall be made of the finest glittering gold, |
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And your perch of the best ivory." |
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And her father sitting up at his window so high, |
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And on hearing the parrot, he did say, |
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"Oh what is the matter, my pretty Polly, |
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That you cry so long before the day?" |
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"Oh there come a cat to my window so high, |
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And it's baba and a lily-va, |
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And I was a-calling my pretty mistress, |
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Just to frighten that pussycat away." |
