Paroles de The Market Song
On a fine evening fair in the month of AprilO'er the hill came the sun with a smile
And the folks they were throngin' the roads everywhere
Makin' haste to be in at Copshawholme Fair
I've seen 'em a-comin' in from the mountains and glens
Those rosy-faced lasses and strappin' young men
With a joy in their heart and unburdened o' care
A-meetin' old friends at Copshawholme Fair
Who ever joined our gathering and danced
Under the garlands green will never be the same again
Now rest your head and stay a while and dwell with us the summers night
And you'll never be the same again
There are lads for the lasses, there's toys for the bairns
There are jugglers and tumblers and folks with no arms
There's a ballad-singer here and a fiddler there
There are nut-men and spice-men at Copshawholme Fair
There are peddlers and potters and gingerbread stands
There are peepshows and popping-darts and the green caravans
There's fruits from all nations exhibited there
With kale plants from Orange at Copshawholme Fair
You came a long way, you travelled for so long
Now rest your head before the summers gone
Meet us in the sunny fields, meet us in the greenwood deep And I never will lie with my mammy nae mair
The fiddles play briskly at Copshawholme Fair
A-meetin' old friends at Copshawholme Fair
Who ever joined our gathering and danced
Under the garlands green will never be the same again
Now rest your head and stay a while and dwell with us the summers night
And you'll never be the same again
There are lads for the lasses, there's toys for the bairns
There are jugglers and tumblers and folks with no arms
There's a ballad-singer here and a fiddler there
There are nut-men and spice-men at Copshawholme Fair
There are peddlers and potters and gingerbread stands
There are peepshows and popping-darts and the green caravans
There's fruits from all nations exhibited there
With kale plants from Orange at Copshawholme Fair
You came a long way, you travelled for so long
Now rest your head before the summers gone
Meet us in the sunny fields, meet us in the greenwood deep And I never will lie with my mammy nae mair
The fiddles play briskly at Copshawholme Fair
Paroles powered by LyricFind