| The Lady & the Lilly |
| Quoth a maid, when at play In her garden one day, "I shall pray to the god of true lovers, That he make cunning shape In fair art and good grace A heart made for my heart and no other." From her bower, gathered flowers Plucked as bells rang the hour, For their power to seal her entreaty, She laid round her and vowed her That the true heart that found her As her dower would take up the lilly. Fa la la, fa la la, fa la la la la lay, fa la la la, Would take up, the lilly. Noble lord wins a horn, Setting spurs to swift horse, Seeking boar flesh to grace well his table, When a storm from the north Covered darkly his course. He per force reins for lodging and stable. For climes milder, to fly there Goes our noblest of riders 'Till his eyes are beset with a wonder. For he spies her as she lies there With the flowers drawn nigh her And he sighs for he'll ne'er love another. Fa la la, fa la la, fa la la la la lo, fa la la la, He'll ne're love another. Now with care, cloak of vair, He lays o'er her form fair And her hair shining black as a raven. Boldly dares he does share From the flowers strewn there, One so rare as to gift this fair maiden. He sees her waking and shaking For to quell her mistaking, He's taking to hand the fair lilly. Never breaking nor forsaking True vows of their making And to aching a granted entreaty. Fa la la, fa la la, fa la la la la lay, fa la la la, A granted entreaty. Fa la la, fa la la, fa la la la la lo, fa la la la, The lady, the lilly.... Back to Conn MacNeill's Songs Back to the Lyrics Homepage |