कविता 1
On Monday morning I married a wife,
Thinking to live and a sober life,
But as she turned out, I'd better been dead,
The remarkable day that I was wed,
To me rite fol-lol-liddle-lol-le-day.
Thinking to live and a sober life,
But as she turned out, I'd better been dead,
The remarkable day that I was wed,
To me rite fol-lol-liddle-lol-le-day.
कविता 2
On Tuesday morning I goes to the wood,
I cut a stick both fine and good,
The fineststick that ever you did see,
I cut him out of a holly holly tree,
To me rite fol-lol-liddle-lol-le-day.
I cut a stick both fine and good,
The fineststick that ever you did see,
I cut him out of a holly holly tree,
To me rite fol-lol-liddle-lol-le-day.
कविता 3
On Wednesday morning then home goes I,
Thinking a battle I must try.
I beat him about her back and her wig,
Until I'd a-broke me holly, holly twig,
To me rite fol-1ol-1iddle-lol-1e-day.
Thinking a battle I must try.
I beat him about her back and her wig,
Until I'd a-broke me holly, holly twig,
To me rite fol-1ol-1iddle-lol-1e-day.
कविता 4
On Thursday morning my poor wife,
She was sick and like to die,
If she isn't better tomorrow, you see,
The devil may have her for all of me,
To me rite fol-lol-Iiddle-lol-le-day.
She was sick and like to die,
If she isn't better tomorrow, you see,
The devil may have her for all of me,
To me rite fol-lol-Iiddle-lol-le-day.
कविता 5
On Friday morning the sun did shine,
And I walked out in the midst of my prime,
Oh, the devil he come in, in the midst of the game,
And he.took her away, both blind and lame,
To me rite fol-lol-liddle-lol-le-day.
And I walked out in the midst of my prime,
Oh, the devil he come in, in the midst of the game,
And he.took her away, both blind and lame,
To me rite fol-lol-liddle-lol-le-day.
कविता 6
On Saturday morning it's five days past,
My poor wife is dead at last.
The big bell shall ring and the little one shall toll,
And I'll go home like a jolly old soul,
To my rite fol-lol-liddle-lol-Ie-day.
My poor wife is dead at last.
The big bell shall ring and the little one shall toll,
And I'll go home like a jolly old soul,
To my rite fol-lol-liddle-lol-Ie-day.
कविता 7
On Sunday morning I dined without.
I had ne'er a wife to scold me about.
Here's good luck to my pipe, my bottle, and my friend,
And here's good luck to.a week's work's end,
To my rite fol lol-liddle-lol-le-day.
I had ne'er a wife to scold me about.
Here's good luck to my pipe, my bottle, and my friend,
And here's good luck to.a week's work's end,
To my rite fol lol-liddle-lol-le-day.
song info:
सत्यापित yes
भाषा: हिन्दीअंग्रेज़ी
शैलीEthnic/Folk
पद−
समयांतराल
चार्ट
कॉपीराइट ©
लेखक
गाने के बोल लाइसेंस द्वाराLyricFind
जोड़ाMarch 26th, 2020
आखरी अपडेटMarch 7th, 2022
के बारे में[ Roud 433 ; Laws Q6 ; Ballad Index LQ06 ; VWML RoudFS/S269594 , GG/1/17/1073 ; Wiltshire 515 ; trad.]
Baring-Gould, who describes this as a song "relished by married men", found an early set in a collection of stall balladry, West Country Garlands, date about 1760. He obtained a version from the singing of Robert Hard of South Brent, Devon, which he called A Week's Work Well Done. Our version is sung to a variant of the well-known Turpin Hero tune. Frank Kidson had information that the song was sung by Grimaldi the clown, about 1820.
Baring-Gould, who describes this as a song "relished by married men", found an early set in a collection of stall balladry, West Country Garlands, date about 1760. He obtained a version from the singing of Robert Hard of South Brent, Devon, which he called A Week's Work Well Done. Our version is sung to a variant of the well-known Turpin Hero tune. Frank Kidson had information that the song was sung by Grimaldi the clown, about 1820.