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Debra Cowan

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Debra Cowan

Blackwaterside (trad)

One evening fair, I took the air
Down by Blackwaterside
Was gazing all around me
The Irish lad I spied

All through the first part of the night
We lay in sport and play
'Til this young man arose and gathered his clothes
Saying, 'Fare thee well today'

That's not the promise that you made to me
When first you lay on my breast
You could make me believe with your lying tongue
That the sun rose in the west
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Go home, go home to your father's garden
You go home and weep your fill
And think upon your own misfortune
That you've brought with your wanton will

There's not a girl in this whole town
As easily led as I
Sure the fishes will fly and the seas will run dry
Then it's married you and I

One evening fair I took the air