Now once a young man courted me,
And wan my tender heart, O,
Now he is gone to serve the king,
Woes me that we must part, O.

O the wars, the cruel wars,
Has left me here a mourning,
Has taken my bonny English lad,
Small hope of his returning.

A serjeant unto Muirkirk came,
And tempt'd him with much money,
And he was swear't to let him gang,
He handsome was and bonny.

O the wars, the cruel wars,
Has left me here a mourning,
Has taken my bonny English lad,
Small hope of his returning.

His face was fair, his humour free,
With modest kind discretion,
Great honesty experienc'd he,
As many in the nation.

O the wars, the cruel wars,
Has left me here a mourning,
Has taken my bonny English lad,
Small hope of his returning.

The forge hammer lies by for him,
Alas! now his room is empty,
And he must learn a soldier's reel,
To hear their drums they tempt ay.

O the wars, the cruel wars,
Has left me here a mourning,
Has taken my bonny English lad,
Small hope of his returning.

At night when I should take my rest,
Mine eye's debar'd from sleeping,
To think on him that I love best,
That has my heart a-keeping.

O the wars, the cruel wars,
Has left me here a mourning,
Has taken my bonny English lad,
Small hope of his returning.

May Providence preserve him still,
Tho' he be turn'd a rover,
And left me sore against my will,
A poor unhappy lover.

O the wars, the cruel wars,
Has left me here a mourning,
Has taken my bonny English lad,
Small hope of his returning.

But Providence grant the wars may cease,
That I once more may see him,
Their blackguard tongues is ill to bear,
I wish I had gone with him.

O the wars, the cruel wars,
Has left me here a mourning,
Has taken my bonny English lad,
Small hope of his returning.

And wherefore do the Poor complain?
The rich man asked of me,—
Come walk abroad with me, I said
And I will answer thee.

Twas evening and the frozen streets
Were cheerless to behold,
And we were wrapt and coated well,
And yet we were a-cold.

We met an old bare-headed man,
His locks were few and white,
I ask'd him what he did abroad
In that cold winter's night:

'Twas bitter keen indeed, he said,
But at home no fire had he,
And therefore, he had come abroad
To ask for charity.

We met a young bare-footed child,
And she begg'd loud and bold,
I ask'd her what she did abroad
When the wind it blew so cold;

She said her father was at home
And he lay sick a-bed,
And therefore was it she was sent
Abroad to beg for bread.

We saw a woman sitting down
Upon a stone to rest,
She had a baby at her back
And another at her breast;

I ask'd her why she loiter'd there
When the wind it was so chill;
She turn'd her head and bade the child
That scream'd behind be still.

She told us that her husband served
A soldier, far away,
And therefore to her parish she
Was begging back her way.

We met a girl; her dress was loose
And sunken was her eye,
Who with the wanton's hollow voice
Address'd the passers by;

I ask'd her what there was in guilt
That could her heart allure
To shame, disease, and late remorse?
She answer'd, she was poor.

I turn'd me to the rich man then
For silently stood he,
You ask'd me why the Poor complain,
And these have answer'd thee.