The Gardener


Proud Maisrie stands in her bower door
As straight as a willow wand
And by it comes a gardener lad
With a red rose in his hand.
And by it comes a gardener lad
With a red rose in his hand.

O you shall have my rose, fair maid
If you'll give your flower to me
And among the flowers in my garden
I'll shape a gown for thee.
And among the flowers in my garden
I'll shape a gown for thee.

The lily white shall be your smock
Becomes your body best
And the gillyflower to be your quill
And the primrose in your breast.
And the gillyflower to be your quill
And the primrose in your breast.

Your gown shall be the smelling thyme
And your petticoat camovine
And your apron of the salads neat
That taste both sweet and fine.
And your apron of the salads neat
That taste both sweet and fine.

Your gloves shall be the marigold
All glittering to your hand
Well dropped o'er with the blue blaewort
That grows among white land.
Well dropped o'er with the blue blaewort
That grows among white land.

Your stockings shall be of the broad kail blade
That is both broad and long
And narrow, narrow at the coot
And broad, broad at the brawn.
And narrow, narrow at the coot
And broad, broad at the brawn.

Since you have shaped a gown for me
Among your summer flowers
It's I'll repay you back again
Among the winter showers.
It's I'll repay you back again
Among the winter showers.

The new fallen snow shall be your shirt
And lie your body next
And the murk black rain shall be your coat
And a wind gale at your breast.
And the murk black rain shall be your coat
And a wind gale at your breast.

The steed that you shall ride upon
Shall be the winter snell
Well bridled with the norland wind
And cold, sharp showers of hail.
Well bridled with the norland wind
And cold, sharp showers of hail.

The hat that's be upon your head
Shall be of the weather grey
And when you come into my sight
I'll wish you were away.
And when you come into my sight
I'll wish you were away.

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