Five North Country Folk Songs

If you want a buzzem, for to sweep your house,
Come to my bonnies, you may have your choice.
Buy broom buzzems, buy them when they’re new,
Fine heather bred ones, better never grew.

Buzzems for a penny, rangers for a plack,
If you will not buy, I’ll tie them on my back.
Buy broom buzzems, buy them when they’re new,
Fine heather bred ones, better never grew.

If I had a horse, I would have a cart,
If I had a man, he would take my part.
Had I a husband, I’d care not what he be,
If he’s but a man, that’s enough for me.

‘Have you seen ought of my bonny lad,
And are you sure he’s well, oh?
He’s gone over land with his stick in his hand,
He’s gone, to moor the keel, oh!’

‘Yes, I’ve seen your bonny lad,
Up on the sea I spied him,
His grave is green, but not with grass,
You’ll never lie aside him.’

In good King Arthur's days,
He was a merry king,
He turned three servants out of doors
Because they wouldn't sing.

The first he was a miller,
The second he was a weaver
The third he was a little tailor;
Three thieving rogues together.

The miller he stole corn,
The weaver he stole yarn,
The little tailor he stole broadcloth
To keep these three rogues warm.

The miller was drowned in his dam,
The weaver was hanged in his yarn,
The devil ran off with the little tailor
With his broadcloth under his arm.

The sheep's in the meadow, 
  The cow's in the corn,
Thou's overlong in thy bed, 
  Bonny at morn,
    Canny at night,
Thou's overlong in thy bed,
  Bonny at morn.

The bird's in the nest, 
  The trout's in the burn;
Thou hinders thy mother 
  In many a turn.
    Canny at night, 
  Bonny at morn,
Thou's ower lang in thy bed,
  Bonny at morn.

We're all laid idle 
  Wi' keeping the bairn,
The lad will not work
and the lass will not learn.
    Canny at night, 
  Bonny at morn,
Thou's ower lang in thy bed,
  Bonny at morn.

O the bonny fisher lad, 
that brings the fishes from the sea,
O the bonny fisher lad, 
the fisher lad got hold of me.

On Bamborough shire’s rocky shore. 
Just as you enter Boumer Row,
There lives the bonny fisher lad, 
the fisher lad that beats them all.

My mother sent me out one day 
to gather cockles from the sea,
But I had not been long away 
when the fisher lad got hold of me

A sailor I will never marry, 
nor soldier for he’s got no brass,
But I will have a fisher lad, 
because I am a fisher lass.