Brian Peters - Kemp Owyne | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Brian Peters
• Kemp Owyne

O, come list a while, my bonny child,
Lay your head low on my knee
A dreadful tale I'll tell to you
Concerning of a fair lady

Her mother died when she was young
Causing her to weep and moan;
Her father wed the worst woman
That ever lived in Christendom

She served her with foot and hand,
But, O, her stepmother loved not she
She has cursed that bonny maid
And thrown her in the salt, salt sea

Saying, "Lie you there, Dove Isabel,
A dreadful beast condemned to be,
'Til Kemp Owyne, the King's son,
Shall borrow you with kisses three."

Her neck grew long, her teeth grew strong
On her forefeet she did fall
Every breath brought smoke and fire
On Eastmuir Crag condemned to crawl

"O, it's from this rock I'll never rise
No man on earth shall set me free
'Til Kemp Owyne, the King's son,
Shall climb the crag and thrice kiss me."

Now word has gone to Kemp Owyne
The fiery beast was in his land
He has taken a bonny boat
And steered it with his own fair hand

A mile before he reached the shore
The sky glowed red, though the sun was dim
And as he set his foot on land,
The fiery heat blistered his skin

"O, it's from this rock I'll never rise
No man on earth shall set me free
'Til Kemp Owyne, the King's son,
Shall climb the crag and thrice kiss me."

So he's mounted up the Eastmuir Crag
He has given her kisses one
Away she went, and back she came,
The foulest beast in Christendom

"O, it's from this rock I'll never rise
No man on earth shall set me free
'Til Kemp Owyne, the King's son,
Shall climb the crag and thrice kiss me."

So he's mounted up the Eastmuir Crag
He has given her kisses two
Away she went, and back she came,
And from her mouth the fires still flew

"O, it's from this rock I'll never rise
No man on earth shall set me free
'Til Kemp Owyne, the King's son,
Shall climb the crag and thrice kiss me."

So he's mounted up the Eastmuir Crag
He has given her kisses three
Away she went, and back she came,
The fairest lady that e'er was seen

"O, was it wolf into the wood,
Was it fish into the sea,
Was it man, or vile woman,
My own dear love, that changed thee?"

"O, it was not wolf into the wood,
It was not fish into the sea,
But it was my cruel stepmother,
Forever cursed may she be!"

"A heavier curse fall her upon
Than ever fell on vile woman;
In Wormie's Wood she'll walk alone,
And none take pity her upon,
And relieved shall she never be,
'Til all the saints sail o'er the sea."