Broadside ballads entitled 'Ewe Buchts' and 'The Time Of The House'

Transcription

EWE BUCHTS.

Bonnie May to the ewe buchts is gane
To milk her father's ewes,
And aye as she sung her bonnie voice it rung
Right over the top of the knowes.

There was a troop of gentlemen
Came early riding by,
And one of them to the ewe buchts is gane,
To see May milking the ewes.

Milk on, milk on, my bonnie lass,
Milk on, milk on, said he-
Milk on, milk on, my bonnie lass,
And you'll show me o'er the lea.

Ride on, ride on, stout rider, said she,
Your steed's both stout and strong,
For out of the ewe buchts I winna gang,
For fear that you do me wrong.

He has ta'en her by the milk-white hand,
And by the wris: green sleeve,
And he has laid her down on the dewy land,
And he asked no man's leave,

He has put his hand in his pocket,
And has ta'en out guineas ten,
Saying, Take you that my bonnie lass,
For you'll never see me again.

He mounted on his milk-white steed,
And he's ridden after his men,
And a' that e'er his men ever said,
Was, Dear master, you've tarried long.

I have ridden east and I've travelled west,
And I have ridden among the knowes,
But the bonniest lass that e'er I saw,
Was milking her daddie's ewes.

She has put her milk pail on her head,
And she's gane singing bame,
And a' that e'er her father said,
Was, Dear daughter, you've tarried long.

There came a tod amongst the ewes,
And a woeful tod was he,
Before he had ta'en my ewe lamb away,
I'd rather he'd taen ither three.

It happened on a day, on a bonnie summer day
She was calling out her father's kye,
And who did she spy but the same nobleman,
Coming riding merrily by.

And one of them he did speak out.
Saying, Fair maid, have you got a man,
She turned herself quite saucy round about,
Saying, I've got one at, home.

Hold your tongue, my bonnie lass,
For as loud as i hear ye lee,
Do you no mind o' a cold misty night ,
When you were in the eve buchts wi' me?

He has ordered one of his men to come down,
And help her on behind,
Your father may call in his kye when he likes,
For they'll never be called in by mine.

For I am the laird o' Youghal Ward,
Have fifty ploughs and three ;
And I'm sure I've met wi' the gay bonniest lass
That's in a' the north couutry.

THE

TIME

OF THE

HOUSE.

Air.?The Priest and his Boots,
Long life and good health for bold Parnell and Biggar,
For they are not men with the hearts of a mouse,
They're for Ireland with courage and vigour,
And don't care a hang for '' The time of the House."
And whether the ministers frowning or smiling,
They change not their ways for his praise or his blame,
For Hartingdon's hints or for Hardy's reviling,
They know what they're at and they'll play out the
game.

CHORUS.

So here's good health to bold Parnell and Biggar,
For they are not men with the heart of a mouse,
They're fighting for Ireland with courage and vigour
And don't care a hang for the time of the house.

They say to the Saxons all bills of our making
You rudely throw out or pat up on the shelves ;
But if that be the course you are bent upon taking,
We'll see that you shall not do much for yourselves.
We'll baffle your plans and will mangle your measures,
No matter how wildly you f ret or you foam,
Till at last you will find it the sweetest of pleasures
To send UK all back to our old house at home.

Chorus.

The Minister says there is no sort of reason
In keeping our parliament back from its work,
And talking of Ireland is something like treason,
When we want to think of our ally the Turk.
But Biggar makes answer quite ready and clever,
Let Russia and Turkey be blessed or acursed,
The draught in our hearts is old Ireland for ever,
And England will have to make peace with her first.

Chorus.

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