Bide, Lady, Bide

Child #44
(Keridwen of Montrose)

    Am
The lady stood at her bower door
                    G
As slim as a willow-wand
     Am
When by there came a coal-black smith
                Em     Am
With his hammer in his hand.


"Milady fair, you look so fine
All in your gown of red
Before this time tomorrow morn
I'll have your maidenhead."

"Away, away, you lusty smith
How can you do me wrong
That you should have my maidenhead
That I have kept so long?"

The lady she held up her hand
And swore upon the mold
That she'd not be the blacksmith's love
For all of a purse of gold.

The blacksmith he held up his hand
And swore upon the mass
That he would have her maidenhead
For half of that or less.

Chorus:

     Am
     Singing, "Bide, lady, bide,
                                 G
     For there's nowhere you can hide;
             Am
     And the lusty smith shall be your love
                  Em       Am
     And he shall lay your pride."


Then she became a little bird
And she flew in the air,
But he became a black cock-pigeon
And they flew pair and pair.

Then she became a little hare
And she ran o'er the plain,
But he became a grey hound dog
And he ran her down again.

Chorus

Then she became a little eel
And she swam in the firn,
But he became a speckled trout
And gave the eel a turn.

And she became a little duck
And paddled on the lake,
But he became a rippling wave
And he caught her in his wake.

Chorus

Then she became a little mare
As dark as the night is black
But he became a gilt saddle
And he clung unto her back.

Then she became a lofty ship
And sailed upon the sea,
But he became a bold captain
And on her deck strode he.

Chorus

Then she became a griddle hot
And he became a cake,
And every move the poor girl made
The blacksmith was her make.

Then she became a silken sheet
And she lay on a bed,
And he became a red coverlet. . .
And he had her maidenhead.

And was she woe, he held her so,
And still he bade her bide.
And she became the blacksmith's love
For all of her muckle pride.