Из альбома: Forge & Flagon
Well as I walked down the mettled road,
With all but forty pounds,
All in a belt around my waist,
The cut-throats to confound,
No sharp eyed rogue would rob me,
No vagabond likewise,
And I bet my hide I’ll win my bride,
With the flashing bright blue eyes.
Well the first I met was a tinker,
With gold rings to sell,
Each one cost a tenner,
But some looked twice as well,
I said that’s lucky for me,
And parted with some cash,
To take a golden wedding band,
To my deserving lass.
Well as I walked down the mettled road,
With all but thirty pounds.. etc
The next I met was a gypsy,
She’d a yard of Honiton lace,
Eyes as brown as berries,
With an honest open face,
Well I said that’s lucky for me,
And parted with some cash,
To take a beautiful wedding veil,
To my deserving lass.
Well as I walked down the mettled road,
With all but twenty pounds… etc
The next I met was a urchin,
He’d orchids by the score,
Blues and reds and yellow’s,
To make the sun feel sore,
And I said that’s lucky for me,
And parted with some cash,
To take a rare wedding bouquet,
To my deserving lass.
Well as I walked down the mettled road,
With all but ten pounds… etc
The last I met was a farmer,
He’d a magnum of champagne,
He wanted fifteen guinea’s,
But I clinched it just the same,
I said that’s lucky for me,
Now we can raise a glass,
And drink a sparkling wedding toast,
To my deserving lass.
Well her father he’s an ignorant man,
You can hear him loudly call,
It’s a curtain ring on her finger,
And her veils a gypsy’s shawl,
And what a fine bunch of wayside weeds,
Fresh picked from down the lane,
And a wedding cup of cider sets us on the road again.
Well as we walk down the mettled road,
With never a weary pound,
All in a belt around my waist,
The cut-throats to confound,
No sharp eyed rogue would rob me,
No vagabond likewise,
Well I kept my hide,
And I won my bride,
With the flashing bright blue eyes