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Trooper and Maid

No: 299; variant: 299C

  1. THERE cam a trooper frae the west, And he’s ridden till his deary; ‘It’s open and lat me in,’ he says, For I am wet and weary.’
  2. ‘O whan sall we be married, love? O whan sall we be married?’ ‘Whan heather-cows turn owsen-bows, It’s then that we’ll be married.’
  3. ‘O whan sall we be married, love? O when sall we be married?’ ‘When cockle-shells turn siller bells, It’s then that we’ll be married.’
  4. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘Whan the sun and moon dance on the green, It’s then that we’ll be married.’