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Folk Song

X:1 T:The Over-Courteous Knight C:Trad Z:Webmaster L:1/4 M:3/4

1/4=100

K:C P:verse G2 G | G2 D | F2 G | A3 | A3/2 B/2 c | d2 f | e3/2 d/2 c | B3 | w:Yon-der comes a cour-teous knight Lus-t-ily ra-king ov-er the hay. G3/2 G/2 B | G3/2 A/2 (B/2c/2) | d2 c | B2 B | c2 c | d2 e | c3/2 d/2 B | A3 | w: He was well 'ware of a bon-ny lass As she came wan-de-ring ov-er the way P:chorus B3/2 A/2 G | A3/2 ^F/2 D | G2 A | B3/2 G/2 A | w:Then she sang Down a down, hey down de-rry_ d3/2 c/2 B | A3/2 A/2 D | (c3/2 B/2) A | B G z || w:Then she sang Down a down, hey down de-rry_ % W:1 W:Yonder comes a courteous knight Lustily raking over the hay. W:He was well 'ware of a bonny lass As she came wandering over the way: W: W:(chorus) W:Then she sang Down a down, hey down derry, W:Then she sang Down a down, hey down derry. W: W:2 W:Jove speed you, fair lady, he said, Amongst the leaves that be so green: W:If I were a king, and wore a crown, Full soon, fair lady should thou be a queen! W: W:3 W:Also, Jove save you, fair lady, Among the roses that be so red: W:If I have not my will of you, Full soon, fair lady, shall I be dead! W: W:4 W:Then he looked east, then he looked west, He looked north, so did he south: W:He could not find a privy place, For all lay in the devil's mouth. W: W:5 W:If you will carry me gentle sir, A maid unto my father's hall, W:Then you shall have your will of me Under purple and under pall. W: W:6 W:He set her upon a steed, And himself upon another, W:And all the day he rode by her As though they had been sister and brother. W: W:7 W:When she came to her father's hall It was well walled round about, W:She rode in at the wicker-gate And shut the four-eared fool without. W: W:8 W:You had me, quoth she, abroad in the field Among the corn, amidst the hay, W:Where you might had your will of me - For, in good faith, sir, I ne'er said nay! W: W:9 W:You had me also amid the field Among the rushes that were so brown, W:Where you might had your will of me - But you had not the face to lay me down! W: W:10 W:He pulled out his nut-brown sword And wiped the rust off with his sleeve, W:And said: Jove's curse come to his heart That any woman would believe! W: W:11 W:When you have your own true-love A mile or twain out of the town, W:Spare not for her gay clothing - But lay her body flat on the ground! % % % % %

					
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