Five Folksongs

I canna get to my love, if I would dee,
The water o' Tyne runs between her and me;
And here I must stand, wi' a tear in my e'e,
Both sighing and sickly my sweetheart to see.
O where is the boatman? my bonny hinny!
O where is the boatman? I'll give any money
To ferry me ower the Tyne to my hinny,
And I will remember the boatman and thee.
O bring me a boatman - I'll give any money,
And you for your trouble rewarded'll be,
To ferry me over the Tyne to my hinny,
Or scull her across that rough river to me.

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Hush-a-ba, birdie, croon, croon1,
The sheep are gane to the silver wood,
An' the coos2 are gane to the broom, broom,
An' it's braw3 milkin' the kye, kye; 4
The birds are singing,
The bells are ringing,
The wild deer come galloping bye, bye.
 
Hush-a-ba, birdie, croon, croon, 1
The ewes are gane to the mountain top,
An' they'll no' be hame till noon, noon,
An' it's braw 3 herdin' the kye, kye; 4
The lambs are skipping,
The sun is dipping,
An' bairnie maun 5 hush-a-ba, bye, bye.
 
Hush-a-ba, birdie, croon, croon, 1
Your mither 6 is weary wi' watchin' here,
An' fain wad she lie doun, doun,
An' to rest she'll no be blate, blate;7
The fire is sinkin'
And mither 6 is thinkin'
Her bairnie maun 5 sleep for it's late, late.

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