Chylde Owlet Lyrics - Singles - Seeger Peggy

CHYLDE OWLET 

Lady Erskine sits in her bower 

A sewing her silken seam 

A bonnie sark for Chylde Owlet 

As he gangs oot and in 

His face was fair, lang was his hair 

She's ca'd him to come nigh 

Oh ye maun cuckold Lord Ronald 

For a' his lands and kye 

Oh lady, hold your tongue for shame 

That such a thing e'er be done 

How could I cuckold Lord Ronald 

And me his sister's son 

Then she's ta'en oot a wee penknife 

That lay beside her bed 

And pricked hersel below her breist 

Which made her body bleed 

Lord Ronald's come into her bower 

Whaur she did mak' her mane 

Oh, wha's is a' this blood, he says 

That sparks on your hearth stane? 

Young Chylde Owlet, your sister's son 

Is new gane frae my bower 

Gin I hadnae been a good woman 

I'd hae been Chylde Owlet's whore 

Then he has ta'en young Chylde Owlet 

Cast him in prison strang 

And a his men a council held 

To work Chylde Owlet wrang 

Some said Chylde Owlet should be hung 

Some said that he should burn 

Some said they would hae Chylde Owlet 

Between wild horses torn 

There are horses in my stable stand 

Can rin richt speedily 

It's ye maun tae my stable gang 

And wile oot four far me 

They've put a horse to ilka foot 

and ain tae ilka hand 

And sent them oot ower Elkin Moor 

As fast as they could gang 

There wasnae grass nor heather knowe 

Nor broom nor bonnie whin 

But drappit wi' Chylde Owlet's blood 

And pieces o' his skin 

There wasnae stane on Elkin Moor 

Nor yet a piece o' rush 

But drappit wi' Chylde Owlet's blood 

And pieces o' his flesh 

Child #291 

recorded by Peggy Seeger and Ewan MacColl on Blood & Roses 

filename[ CHDOWLET 

SF 

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