Oh it's of a young squire in Tamworth we hear
|
And he courted a nobleman's daughter so fair
|
For to marry her it was his intent
|
And the friends and relations had given their consent
|
|
Now a date was appointed for their wedding day
|
And the farmer he was appointed to give her away
|
But as soon as the lady this farmer did spy
|
Her heart was inflamed and bitterly she did cry
|
|
And she turned from the squire but nothing she said
|
But instead of getting married she took to her bed
|
And the thoughts of the farmer so ran in her mind
|
A way for to have him she quickly did find
|
|
Coat waistcoat and trousers the young girl put on
|
And away she went a-hunting with her dog and her gun
|
And she hunted around where the farmer he did dwell
|
Because in her heart oh she loved him so well
|
|
And she oftentimes fired but nothing she killed
|
Until this young farmer came into the field
|
And to talk with him it was her intent
|
With her dog and her gun then to meet him she went
|
|
Oh I thought you would be at the wedding she cried
|
To wait on the squire and to give him his bride
|
Oh no said the farmer I'll take a sword in my hand
|
By honor I'd gain her whenever she command
|
|
And the lady was pleased when she heard him so bold
|
And she gave him a glove that was made out of gold
|
And she told him that she found it (as?) she was coming along
|
As she went out a-hunting with her dog and her gun
|
|
And this lady went home with a heart full of love
|
And she gave out a notice that she'd lost her glove
|
And whoever found it and he brings it to me
|
Whoever he is then my husband shall be
|
|
The farmer he was pleased when he heard of the news
|
And with a heart full of love to the lady he goes
|
Oh lady oh lady I've picked up your glove
|
And I hope that you'll be pleased for to grant me some love
|
|
Oh it's already granted (and?) I will be your bride
|
For I love the sweet breath of the farmer she cried
|
I'll be mistress of your dairy and I'll milk all your cows
|
While me jolly old farmer goes whistling on his plow
|
|
And its when they got married and they told of the fun
|
How she'd gone out a-hunting with her dog and her gun
|
|
-----------------
|
The Golden Glove
|
John Wesley Harding |