Bellowhead - Rosemary Lane | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Bellowhead
• Rosemary Lane

If you will go down to Rosemary Lane,
Where every rose grows merry and fine,
Oh, you'll pick me out the finest girl there,
And I will make her a true love of mine.

Tell her to make me a cambric shirt,
Where every rose grows merry and fine,
To be done without needle or needlework,
Then she will be a true lover of mine.

And tell her to wash it in yonder well,
Where every rose grows merry and fine,
Where water ne'er sprung and rain never fell,
Then she will be a true lover of mine.

Tell her to dry it on yonder green thorn,
Where every rose grows merry and fine,
Where bloom never grew since Adam was born,
Then she will be a true lover of mine.

And when she has finished all of her work,
Where every rose grows merry and fine,
Oh, tell her I'll call for my cambric shirt,
Then she will be a true lover of mine.

If you will go down to Rosemary Lane,
Where every rose grows merry and fine,
Oh, you'll pick me out the finest boy there,
And I will make him a true love of mine.

Tell him to get me an acre of land,
Where very rose grows merry and fine,
Between the salt sea and the salt-sea strand,
Then he will be a true lover of mine.

Tell him to plough it with a ram's horn,
Where very rose grows merry and fine,
And sow it all over with one grain of corn,
And then he will be a true lover of mine.

Tell him to reap it with a cock's feather,
Where every rose grows merry and fine,
And bind it all over with strappings of leather,
Then he will be a true lover of mine.

And tell him to draw it home on a snail,
Where every rose grows merry and fine,
Thrash it all over with an ox's tail,
Then he will be a true lover of mine.

Every rose grows merry and fine

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