Текст песни Lord Bateman - Jean Ritchie

Lord Bateman

Lord Bateman was a noble lord
He thought himself of a high degree
He could not rest nor be contented
'Til he had sailed the old salt sea
Oh, he sailed east and he sailed to the westward
He sailed all over to the Turkish shore
There he got caught and put in prison
Never to be released anymore
There grew a tree inside of this prison
There grw a tree both broad and high
And there they took and bound him prisonr
'Til he grew weak and like to die
Now the Turk he had one only daughter
And she was fair as she could be
She stole the keys to her father’s prison
And declared Lord Bateman she’d set free
She took him down to the deepest cellar
She gave him a drink of the strongest wine
She threw her loving little arms around him
Crying oh, Lord Bateman if you were mine
They made a vow, they made a promise
For seven long years they made to stand
He swore he’d marry no other woman
She vowed she’d marry no other man
Well seven long years has rolled around
Seven years and they seem like twenty-nine
Yes, she’s packed up all of her gay clothing
And declared Lord Bateman she’d go find
Well she sailed east and she sailed to the westward
She sailed all over to the England shore
She rowed 'til she come to Lord Bateman’s castle
And she summonsed his porter right down to the door
Oh is this not Lord Bateman’s castle
And is his lordship not within?
Oh yes, oh yes cried the proud young porter
He’s just now bringing his new bride in
Go bid him to send me a slice of bread
Go bid him to send me a drink of wine
And not to forget the Turkish lady
That freed him from his close confines
What’s the news, what’s the news, you proud young porter
What’s the news, what’s the news that you’ve brung to me
There stands a lady outside of your castle
She’s the fairest one I ever did see
She has got a gold ring on every finger
And one finger she has got three
And enough gay gold all around her middle
As to buy Northumberland of thee
She bids you to send her a slice of bread
She bids you to send her a drink of wine
And not to forget the Turkish lady
That freed you from your close confines
Oh up and spoke that new bride’s mother
She never was known to speak so free
Well what’s to become of my only daughter
She has just been made a bride to thee
Oh I’ve done no harm to your only daughter
And she is the none of the worse for me
She came to me with a horse and saddle
And she shall go home in coacharie
Lord Bateman he pounded his fist on the table
And he broke it in pieces one two three
Says I’ll forsake all for the Turkish lady
She has crossed that old salt sea for me