Lyrics The Merchant's Son - June Tabor
A
merchant′s
son,
he
lived
in
wrong
And
to
the
begging
he
has
gone.
He
mounted
on
his
noble
steed
And
awa
wi
pleasure
he
did
ride.
Fal
al
the
dooral
i
do
Fal
al
the
day
A
beggar
wench
he
chanced
to
meet,
A
beggar
wench
of
low
degree.
He
took
pity
on
her
distress
An'
says:
"My
lass,
you′ve
got
a
pretty
face."
Fal
al
the
dooral
i
do
Fal
al
the
day
They
both
inclined
now
to
have
a
drink,
Into
a
public
house
they
went.
They
ordered
ale
and
brandy
too
Till
the
both
of
them
got
rolling
fu'.
Fal
al
the
dooral
i
do
Fal
al
the
day
They
both
inclined
to
go
to
bed
And
under
cover
soon
were
laid.
Strong
ale
and
brandy
went
to
their
heads
And
both
now
slept
as
they
were
dead.
Fal
al
the
dooral
i
do
Fal
al
the
day
Later
on
the
wench
she
rose
And
put
on
now
the
merchant's
clothes.
With
his
hat
so
high
and
his
sword
so
clear
And
she′s
awa
wi
the
merchant′s
gear.
Fal
al
the
dooral
i
do
Fal
al
the
day
Early
next
morning
the
merchant
rose
And
looking
round
for
to
find
his
clothes.
There's
nothing
left
into
the
room
But
a
ragged
petticoat
and
a
wincey
gown.
Fal
al
the
dooral
i
do
Fal
al
the
day
The
merchant
being
a
stranger
to
the
town
He
put
on
the
old
coat
and
gown
And
down
the
street
he
loudly
swore,
He
would
never
lie
with
a
beggar
no
more.
Fal
al
the
dooral
i
do
Fal
al
the
day
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