8
Chorus. O! the broom, the bonny bonny broom,
The broom of the Cowdenknowes;
I wish I were with my dear swain,
With his pipe and my ewes.
I neither wanted ewe nor lamb,
When his flocks near me lay;
He gather’d in my sheep at night,
And cheer’d me a’ the day.
O! the broom,
He tun’d his pipe and and reed so sweet,
The birds sat list’ning by;
The fleecy sheep stood still and gaz’d,
Charm’d with his melody.
O! the broom,
While thus we spent our time by turns,
Betwixt our flocks and play,
I envy’d not the fairest dame,
Though e'er so rich and gay.
O! the broom,
He did oblige me every hour,
Could I but faithful be?
He stole my heart, cou’d I refuse,
Whate'er he ask'd of me!
O! the broom,
Hard fate, that I must banish’d be,
Gang heavily and mourn,
Because I lov’d the kindest swain
That ever yet was born.
O! the broom,
F I N I S.
