Boiled In Lead - Newry Highwayman

Текст

In Newry Town I was bred and born

In Steven's Green now I'll die in scorn.

I served my time to the saddling trade

but I turned out to be, I turned out to be a roving blade.

At seventeen I took a wife

I loved her dearly as I love life

And for to keep both fine and gay

I took to robbing, I took to robbing on the King's highway.

I never robbed any poor man yet

Nor any tradesman has cause to fret

I rob the lords and their ladies bright

I take their jewels, I take their jewels to my heart's delight.

To Covent Garden I make my way

With my dear wife for to see the play

Lord Fielding's corps they did me pursue

And I was taken, I was taken by that cursed crew.

My father cried, "Oh, my darling son"

My wife she wept and said, "I'm undone"

My mother tore her white locks and cried,

"'Twas in the cradle, 'twas in the cradle that he should have died."

And when I'm dead and in my grave

A flashy funeral pray let me have

With six bold highwaymen to carry me

Give them good broadswords, good broadswords and liberty.

Six pretty maidens to bear my pall

Give them white ribbons and garlands all

For when I'm dead, aye they'll speak the truth

He was a wild and a wicked youth.

Перевод

В Ньюри-Тауне я вырос и родился

В Стивенс-Грине теперь я умру в презрении.

Я отслужил свой срок в шорном ремесле

но я оказался, я оказался быть бродячим лезвием.

В семнадцать лет я женился

Я любил ее нежно, как люблю жизнь

И чтобы оставаться одновременно красивым и веселым

Я начал грабить, я начал грабить на Королевская дорога.

Я еще ни разу не грабил ни одного бедняка

Ни у какого торговца нет повода для беспокойства

Я граблю лордов и их дам ярко

Я забираю их драгоценности, я беру их драгоценности к удовольствию моего сердца .

Я направляюсь в Ковент-Гарден

С моей дорогой женой, чтобы посмотреть спектакль

Корпус лорда Филдинга преследовал меня

И меня схватила, меня схватила эта проклятая команда.

Мой отец плакал: «О, мой дорогой сын»

Моя жена плакала и говорила: «Я погибла»

Моя мать рвала свои белые локоны и плакала:

»'Это было в колыбели

Он должен был умереть в колыбели."

И когда я умру и окажусь в могиле

Позволь мне провести яркую погр*бальную молитву

С шестью смелыми разбойниками, которые несут меня

Дайте им хорошие палаши, хорошие палаши и свобода.

Шесть хорошеньких девиц, чтобы нести мою покров

Дайте им всем белые ленты и гирлянды

Ибо, когда я умру, да, они скажут правду

Он был диким и злым юношей.

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Boiled In Lead - Newry Highwayman

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