One evening fair to take the air
Down by Blackwater side
It was gazing all, all around me
Towards the Irish lad I spied
All through the first part of that night
Well, we lie in sport and play
Then this young man, he arose and gathered his clothes
He said, "Fare thee well today"
Well, that's not the promise that you gave to me
When first you lay on my bed
You could make me believe with your lying tongue
That the sun rose in the west
Then go home, go home to your father's garden
You go home and weep your fill
And you think of your own misfortune
That you brought with your wanton will
For there's not a girl in this whole world wide
As easily led as me
Sure, it's fishes will fly and the seas run dry
Tis then I'll marry thee.
Trad/arr Peacock's Tale. The tune is Irish as is the young man. The images are of the River Blackwater in Essex, the probable scene of the story and the words are an old English folk lyric telling the same old folk tale of a young woman beguiled, though we adjust it slightly so that she sees through him before the end. We got it in one take and in one lump (apart from the brief hand drum on the instrumental) as I'm playing a foot drum with each foot under my bass while Maz is doing her usual multi task thing. Nice and simple.
