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LORD BATEMAN was a noble Lord, A noble Lord of high degree. He shipped himself all a-board a great ship, Some foreign country to go and see. He sailed East and he sailed West, He sailed unto proud Turkey. There he was taken and put in prison, Until his life was quite weary. And in this pris'n there grew a tree, It grew so stout and it grew so strong, He was chained up hard all by the middle Until his life was almost gone. The Turk he had one daughter fair, The fairest thing his eyes could see. She stole the keys of her father's prison, And swore Lord Bateman she would set free. O, have you lands? and livings have you? And does Northumb'rland belong to thee? What would you give a fair young lady, If out of prison she'll set you free? Yes, I've got lands and livings also, And all Northumb'rland belongs to me, All, all, I'll give to a fair young lady, If out of prison she'll set me free. To her father's cellar then they stole, She found for him the best of wine, And every health that she drank beside him: I wish Lord Bateman that you were mine. For seven years we'll make a vow, For seven years we will keep it strong, If you will marry no other woman I will not wed any other man. Then to the harbour down they went. She stole for him a ship of fame: Farewell, farewell to you, Lord Bateman, I fear that we shall not meet again. The seven years are gone and past, And fourteen days, and then swore she: I'll pack up all my gallant clothing And then Lord Bateman I'll go and see. Lord Bateman's castle can this be? So boldly now she rang the bell. Who's there? who's there? cries the young proud porter, Who's there? who's there? I would have thee tell. Lord Bateman's castle can this be? And is his Lordship here within? O yes! O yes! cries the young proud porter, He has just now taken his young bride in. You bid him send a slice of bread, A bottle of the best of wine. And not forgetting that fair young lady, That rescued him from his close confine. Away this young proud porter ran, Away, away, and away, ran he; Until he came to Lord Bateman's chamber, And down he fell on is bended Knee. My young proud porter, news, what news? What news? what news, hast thou brought to me? Behold, the fairest of all young ladies, That ever these eyes of mine did see. On every finger she has rings: On one of them she has got three. She has gold enough all round her middle, To would buy Northumb'rland from thee. She bids you send a slice of bread, And a bottle of the best of wine. And not forget that fair young lady. That rescued you from your close confine. Lord Bateman then in a passion flew; He broke his sword in splinters three. I would give up all my father's riches If but Sophia have a-crossed the sea? The young bride's mother up she spoke, Was never heard to speak so free; You have forgotten my only daughter, If your Sophia has a-crossed the sea? I have not made your daughter bride So of her vows she may go free: She came to me on a horse and saddle. She may go back in a coach and three. Lord Bateman made a great wedding And both their hearts were full of glee. I will range no more to a foreign country Now my Sophia has a-crossed the sea. |