A Blacksmith Courted me

A Blacksmith Courted Me
A blacksmith courted me nine long months and better,
First he won my heart wrote me a letter;
With his hammer in his hand he strike both neat and clever,
If I was with my love I would live for ever.
From the singing of Danny Brazil and Hyram Brazil, Gloucester and Tom Brazil, Newent on 9 May 1966 (Springthyme 66.5.20, 24 and 27) and from Harry Brazil, Gloucester 14 May 1966 (Springthyme 66.7.1) and from Lemmy Brazil, Gloucester 29 September 1967 (Springthyme 67.6.37). In: Shepheard, Peter. Folk Songs and Ballads of the Brazil Family of Gloucester (1967).

A blacksmith courted me nine long months and better,
First he won my heart wrote me a letter;
With his hammer in his hand he strike both neat and clever,
If I was with my love I would live for ever.

“Don’t talk of going abroad fighting for strangers,
You stay at home young man free from all danger;
You stay at home young man with your lovely jewel,
And fold me in your arms, love and don’t be cruel.”

“You promised to marry me when you first stood by me,
You promised you’d marry me love you’d not deny me.”
“For if I promised to marry you it was only to try you,
Go and fetch your witness here, love I won’t deny you.”

“Oh witness have I none save the sky above me,
And you’ll be rewarded well for the slighting of me.”
Her lips grew pale and white it made her poor heart tremble,
To think she loved that one that proved deceitful.

“Now when I had gold in store you seemed to like me,
But now I’m low and poor all you do is slight me;
You courted me for a while just to receive me,
But now my heart you’ve won, love you’re going to leave me.”

My true love’s across the sea with a bunch of posies,
My true love’s across the sea with his cheeks like roses;
I’m afraid the rising sun will scorch his beauty,
If I was with my love I’d do his duty.

Sad news is come to tell, sad news is carried,
Sad news is come to tell that my true love’s married;
I wish him well to-do although he can’t hear me,
I would never die for love young girls believe me.

Down on the ground she fell like one a-dying,
Throwing her arms abroad syphing and crying;
There is no belief in a man if it your own brother,
So young girls when you love one, you love one each other.




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