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Lady Jean had not been married,
not a year but only three,
Till she had a babe in ev'ry arm,
and another upon her knee.
O but I'm weary, weary wandering,
O but my fortune is bad;
It sets not the Duke of Gordon's daughter
to follow a soldier lad.
O hold thy tongue bonny Jean Gordon,
O hold your tongue my lamb,
For once I was a noble captain,
now, for thy sake, a single man.
O high is the hills and the mountains,
cold was the frost and the snow;
Lady Jean,s shoes they were all torn,
no farther could she go.
O if I was in the glens of Flouden,
where hunting I have been,
I could go to bonny Jean Gordon,
without either stockings or sheen.
