The Golden Glove

The Golden Glove
There was an old squire in London he dewelled,
He had but one daughter a farmer loved well;
All for to get marred it was her intent,
And her friends and relations soon gave her consent. As sung by Danny Brazil, Gloucester 6 May 1966 (Springthyme 66.5.7).
In: Shepheard, Peter. Folk Songs and Ballads of the Brazil Family of Gloucester (1967).

There was an old squire in London he dewelled,
He had but one daughter a farmer loved well;
All for to get marred it was her intent,
And her friends and relations soon gave her consent.

For the day that the wedding was ’pointed to be,
The farmer wasn’t there for to give her away;
Soon as the young lady the farmer couldn’t spy,
She began to lament and then for to cry.

This lady went home with a tear in her eye,
A waistcoat and trousers this lady put on;
All for to cross with him it was her intent,
With a dog and a gun away Molly went.

For she hunted all round where the farmer did dewell,
She often times fired but nothing could kill;
She often times fired but nothing could kill,
Till the jolly young farmer came out in the field.

“Good morning kind sir,” this lady did say,
“What happens that you ain’t at the wedding today?”
“What happens that you ain’t at the wedding today,
For to wait on the lady and give her away?”

“On no ’en kind sir that never could be true,
I loved her too well for to give her away;
My honour, my mistress I will take sword in hand,
If my honour don’t gain her I’ll never search command.”

It pleased the lady to find him so bold,
She gave him a glove that was lineded with gold;
Told him as she’d found it as she’d come along,
That she had been a-hunting with a dog and a gun.

This lady went home with her heart filled with joy,
Giving out a great notice that she had lost her glove;
And the man that will find it and bring it to me,
Twenty guineas I’ll give or his bride I will be.

Soon as the young farmer he heard of the news,
Straight away to the lady the farmer did go;
“My honour, my mistress I have found your glove,
And I’m hopes that you’ll ownd it and grant me your love.”

“The love’s ready granted,” the lady implies,
“I love the sweet birth of a farmer quite well;
I’ll be mistress of me dairymaid milking my cows
While me jolly young farmer goes a-whistling to plough.”

For after they got married she told of the fun,
That she’d been a hunting with a dog and a gun;
But since I have gained him so fast in a snare,
I will keep him for ever he’s my joy and my dear!


[ HOME ]. [ SPRINGTHYME ].[ TOP ]


Valid HTML 4.01 Transitional