Nic Jones - The Noble Lord Hawkins lyrics

As noble Lord Hawkins a-hunting did ride, His horse and his gun and his sword by his side, As he was a-riding he chanced to see A pretty young woman: her name was Polly A pretty young woman: her name was Polly. "Oh Polly, oh Polly, my butler shall be To pour out my wine and to wait upon me. But to pour out my wine and to wait upon me, How does that take you my pretty Polly? How does that take you my pretty Polly?" "Oh noble Lord Hawkins, don't talk so bold, I'll not be your woman for silver or gold. For I have a petticoat suits my degree And I'll n'er have a married man till his wife dies And I'll n'er have a married man till his wife dies." "Then Polly, oh Polly, lend me your penknife And I'll go right home and I'll k** my old wife. Why I'll k** my old wife and her children three And then will you love me, my pretty Polly? And then will you love me, my pretty Polly?" "Oh noble Lord Hawkins don't you say so, But go to your wife and let nobody know. Go to your wife and your children three And seven long years I will tarry for thee And seven long years I will tarry for thee." And these seven long years they were over and past, The lady she goes and dies at last. And the very same day the old lady did die, He went a-courting of pretty Polly He went a-courting of pretty Polly. And so now she's a nobleman's lady so high, Along with young Hawkins she do ride. And all you young ladies come following me Come to the wedding of pretty Polly. For six pretty maidens so neat and so trim Shall dance at my wedding on Monday morning Dance at my wedding on Monday morning.