Traditional Irish Folk
The Lass of Aughrim
If you'll be the lass of Aughrim
As I am taking you mean to be
Tell me the first token
That passed between you and me.
REFRAIN
The rain falls on my yellow locks
And the dew it wets my skin;
My babe lies cold within my arms;
Lord Gregory let me in.
Oh Gregory, don't you remember
One night on the hill,
When we swapped rings off each other's hands,
Sorely against my will?
Mine was of the beaten gold
Yours was but black tin.
Oh if you be the lass of Aughrim,
As I suppose you not to be,
Come tell me the last token
Between you and me.
Oh Gregory don't you remember
One night on the hill,
When we swapped smocks off each other's backs,
Sorely against my will?
Mine was of the holland fine,
Yours was but Scotch cloth.
Oh if you be the lass of Aughrim,
As I suppose you not to be,
Come tell me the last token
Between you and me.
Oh Gregory, don't you remember,
In my father's hall.
When you had your will of me?
And that was the worst of all.