Ann O'Hethersgill |
From Cumbria
The fairest maids o' Britain's Isle 'Mang Cumbria's mountains dwells Sweet budding flowers unseen They bloom by moorland, glen, or fell And yen, the fairest of them all My heart could ne'er be still To see her at the kirk or fair Sweet Ann O' Hethersgill.
2. Her face was like the blushing rose | 3. Her cheerful wrought her war-day work Then sat down at her wheel And song o' love the winter's neets E'er she its power did feel And at the kirk on Sunday morns None sang so sweet and shrill The charming voice abune them all Was Ann O' Hethersgill.
4. But she saw Jock the Carel fair |