Trooper and Maid
No: 299; variant: 299C
- 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.'
- '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.'
- '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.'
- . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
'Whan the sun and moon dance on the green,
It's then that we'll be married.'