The Music Of Ireland
      The Maid Who Sold Her Barley

       

      It's cold and raw, the north winds blow
      Black in the morning early
      When all the hills were covered with snow
      Oh then it was winter fairly.
      As I was riding o'er the moor
      I met a farmer's daughter
      Her cherry cheeks and coal-black hair
      They caused my heart to falter.

      I bowed my bonnet very low
      To let her know my meaning.
      She answered with a courteous smile
      Her looks they were engaging.
      "Where are you bound my pretty maid
      It's now in the morning early?"
      The answer that she gave to me
      "Kind sir, to sell my barley."

      "Now twenty guineas I've in my purse
      And twenty more that's yearly.
      You need not go to the market town
      For I'll buy all your barley.
      If twenty guineas would gain the heart
      Of the maid I love so dearly
      All for to tarry with me one night
      And go home in the morning early."

      As I was riding o'er the moor
      The very evening after
      It was my fortune for to meet
      The farmer's only daughter.
      Although the weather being cold and raw
      With her I thought to parlay
      The answer that she gave to me
      "Kind sir, I've sold my barley."

       

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