Barbara Dickson


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As I rode out over London Bridge
On a misty morning early,
I overheard a fair pretty maid
A cryin' for the life of Geordie

Go bridle to me a milk white steed
Bridle to me a pony
I'll ride down to London town
And I'll plead for the life of Geordie

For he never stole ox, he never stole ass
He never murdered any
He stole 16 of the King's wild deer
And he sold them in Bohenny

But when she rode down and in the King's Hall
There were lords and ladies a'plenty
Down on her bended knees, she did fall
And she begged for the life of Geordie

Crying "six pretty babies I've had by him
Another one lies in my body
Freely I'd part with each one of them
If you'll give me the life of Geordie

But the judge looked over his left shoulder
He cries, I'm sorry for thee
My pretty fair maid you've come too late
For he's been condemned already

Oh, me Geordie shall hang in a chain of gold
Such chains as never was any
Because he came of the royal blood
And he courted a fine young lady

Oh I wish I had you in younder grove
Where times I have been many
With my broad sword and pistol too
I'd fight for the life of Geordie

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Barbara Dickson en Octubre