In cart Not available Out of stock

Easily the oldest song we do, this one dates to 17th-century Scotland. We learned it from an old Archie Fisher disc and added harmony to make up for the fact that nobody sounds as sweet and rich as Archie.

Lyrics

How blithe each morn was I to see
My lass come o'er the hill
She skipped the burn and ran to me
I met her with good will.

Oh, the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom
The broom o' the Cowdenknowes
Fain would I be in the north country
<p>Herding her father's ewes

We neither wanted ewes nor lambs
While the flock near us lay
She gathered in the sheep at night
And cheered me all the day

Oh, the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom
The broom o' the Cowdenknowes
Fain would I be in the north country
Herding her father's ewes

Hard fate that I should banished be
Gone 'way o'er lea and moor
Because I loved the fairest lass
That ever yet was born

Oh, the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom
The broom o' the Cowdenknowes
Fain would I be in the north country
Herding her father's ewes

Adieu, ye Cowdenknowes, adieu
Farewell all pleasures there
To wander by her side again
Is all I crave or care

Oh, the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom
The broom o' the Cowdenknowes
Fain would I be in the north country
Herding her father's ewes