4
Lady Jean had not been married,
A year but only three,
Till she had a babe in every arm,
And another on her knee.
O but I'm weary wandering!
O but my fortune is bad,
It sets not the Duke of Gordon's daughter,
To follow a soldier lad.
O hold your 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 was the hills and the mountains,
Cold was the frost and snow;
Lady Jean's shocs were all torn,
No farther could she go.
O if I was in the glens of Foudlen,
Where hunting I have been,
I could go to bonny castle Gordon,
Without either stockings or sheen.
O hold your tongue bonny Jean Gordon,
O hold your tongue my dow;
I've but one half-crown in the world,
I'll buy hose and shoon to you.
When she came to bonny Castle Gordon,
And coming over the green,
The Porter cried out, with a loud voice,
Yonder comes our lady Jean.
