James Harris, the Daemon Lover - Stalnaker, J. G.

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◈ Genre → Folksongs

♯ Tonart D minor

⁄ Taktart 4/4

♬ Besetzung → SATB

◆ Difficulty

Mittelstufe

↕ Tonumfang D – d''

¶ Sprache → Englisch

Takte 102

Textur Homophon

Stimmen 12

Instrumente A cappella

Seiten 5

CPDL Nr. 51192

Bearbeiter J. G. Stalnaker

Veröffentlicht 2018-09-04

Lizenz CPDL-Lizenz

♫Tonumfänge

c – d''

f – d''

c – d'

f – d''

c – d'

7. SA

g – d''

A – d'

SSAT

a – d''

11.

c – d''

D – e'

Schlagwörter

Pages_using_DynamicPageList3_parser_function Posted_in_September_2018 More_than_90_days_old More_than_30_days_old CPDL_511xy

¶Liedtext

Well met, well met, my own true love, Well met, well met,' cried he, 'I've just returned from the salt, salt sea All for the love of thee!' I could have married the king's daughter, dear, She would have married me, But I have forsaken her crowns of gold All for the love of thee. 'Well if you could have married the king's daughter dear I'm sure you are to blame, for I am married to a house carpenter I find him a nice young man.' 'Ah, will you forsake your house carpenter and go along with me? I'll take you where the green grass grows by the banks of the salt, salt sea.' Will you forsake your house carpenter and go along along with me? I'll take you where the green grass grows by the banks of the salt the salt sea.' 'Well, if I should forsake my house carpenter And go along with thee, What have you got to main tain me on and keep me from poverty?' 'Six ships, six ships all out on the sea, Seven more upon dry land One hundred ten all brave sailor men will be at your command.' Six ships six ships all out on the sea seven more upon dry land dry land hundred ten all all brave sailor men will be at your command your command. She picked up her own wee babe, And kisses gave him three, Said, 'Stay right here with my house carpenter And keep him good company.' Then she putted on her rich attire So glorious to be hold And as she trod a long her way She shone like the glittering gold. Well they'd not been gone but a bout three weeks. I'm sure it was not four. Our gallant ship sprang a leek and sank Never to rise any more. 'What hills what hills are those my love That rise so fair and high?' 'Those are the hills of heaven my love, But not for you and I.' 'And what hills what hills are those my love Those hills so dark and low?' 'Those are the hills of hell my love Where you and I must go.' 'Where you and I must go!'