Communicated by Miss Margaret Reburn, as current in County Meath, Ireland, 1860-70.
1 |
She served them up, she served them down,
She served them up with wine,
But still she drank the clear spring water,
To keep her color fine. |
2 |
'I must get up, she must sit down,
She must sit in my place,
Or else be torn by wild horses
And thrown over the gates.' |
3 |
'You wont get up, she wont sit down,
She wont sit in your place,
Nor yet be torn by wild horses,
Nor thrown over the gates.' |
4 |
She called up her seven sons,
By one, by two, by three:
'I wish you were all seven gray-hounds,
This night to worry me.' |
5 |
'What ails you, fair Ellen? what ails you, fair?
Or why do you sigh and moan?'
'The hoops are off my wine hogsheads,
And my wine is overflown.' |