Текст песни John Wesley Harding - The Golden Glove | Слова песни John Wesley Harding - The Golden Glove | Тексты песен John Wesley Harding | Табы John Wesley Harding

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The Golden Glove

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Жанры : singer-songwriter alternative british folk rock folk singer-songwriter alternative british folk rock folk

Видео: John Wesley Harding - The Golden Glove

Oh its of a young squire in tamworth we hear

And he courted a noblemans daughter so fair

For to marry her it was his intent

And the friends and relations had given their consent

Now a date was appointed for their wedding day

And the farmer he was appointed to give her away

But as soon as the lady this farmer did spy

Her heart was inflamed and bitterly she did cry

And she turned from the squire but nothing she said

But instead of getting married she took to her bed

And the thoughts of the farmer so ran in her mind

A way for to have him she quickly did find

Coat waistcoat and trousers the young girl put on

And away she went a-hunting with her dog and her gun

And she hunted around where the farmer he did dwell

Because in her heart oh she loved him so well

And she oftentimes fired but nothing she killed

Until this young farmer came into the field

And to talk with him it was her intent

With her dog and her gun then to meet him she went

Oh I thought you would be at the wedding she cried

To wait on the squire and to give him his bride

Oh no said the farmer Ill take a sword in my hand

By honor Id gain her whenever she command

And the lady was pleased when she heard him so bold

And she gave him a glove that was made out of gold

And she told him that she found it (as? ) she was coming along

As she went out a-hunting with her dog and her gun

And this lady went home with a heart full of love

And she gave out a notice that shed lost her glove

And whoever found it and he brings it to me

Whoever he is then my husband shall be

The farmer he was pleased when he heard of the news

And with a heart full of love to the lady he goes

Oh lady oh lady Ive picked up your glove

And I hope that youll be pleased for to grant me some love

Oh its already granted (and? ) I will be your bride

For I love the sweet breath of the farmer she cried

Ill be mistress of your dairy and Ill milk all your cows

While me jolly old farmer goes whistling on his plow

And its when they got married and they told of the fun

How shed gone out a-hunting with her dog and her gun

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