Re Gilardin - Clerk Colvill
Re Gilardin
Re Gilardin, lü ‘l va a la guera,
Lü el va la guera a tirar di spada. (bis)
O quand ‘l’è stai mità la strada,
Re Gilardin ‘l’è restai ferito.
Re Gilardin ritorna indietro,
Dalla sua mamma vò ‘ndà a morire.
O tun tun pica a la porta.
“O mamma mia che mi son morto.”
“O pica pian caro ‘l mio figlio,
Che la to dona ‘l g’à ‘n picul fante.”
“O madona la mia madona
Cosa vol dire ch’i cantan tanto?”
“O nuretta, la mia nuretta,
I g’fan ‘legria ai soldati.”
“O madonna, la mia madona,
Disem che moda ho da vestirmi?”
“Vestiti di rosso, vestiti di nero,
Che le brunette stanno più bene.”
O quand l’è stai ‘nt l üs de la chiesa,
D’un cirighello si l’à incontrato:
“Bundì bongiur an vui vedovella.”
“O no no no che non son vedovella,
‘g ő ‘l fante in cüna e ‘l marito in guera.”
“O si si si che voi sei vedovella,
Vostro marì l’è tri dì che ‘l fa terra.”
“O tera o tera apriti ‘n quatro,
Volio vedere il mio cuor reale.”
“La tua boca la sa di rose,
‘nvece la mia la sa di terra.”
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Clerk Colvill
Clerk Colvill and his lusty dame
Were walking in the garden green;
The belt around her stately waist
Cost Clerk Colvill of pounds fifteen.
"O promise me now, Clerk Colvill,
Or it will cost ye muckle strife,
Ride never by the wells of Slane,
If ye wad live and brook your life."
"Now speak nae mair, my lusty dame,
Now speak nae mair of that to me;
Did I neer see a fair woman,
But I wad sin with her body?"
He's taen leave o his gay lady,
Nought minding what his lady said,
And he's rode by the wells of Slane,
Where washing was a bonny maid.
"Wash on, wash on, my bonny maid,
That wash sae clean your sark of silk;"
"And weel fa you, fair gentleman,
Your body whiter than the milk."
Then loud, loud cry'd the Clerk Colvill,
"O my head it pains me sair;"
"Then take, then take," the maiden said,
"And frae my sark you'll cut a gare."
Then she's gied him a little bane-knife,
And frae her sark he cut a share;
She's ty'd it round his whey-white face,
But ay his head it aked mair.
Then louder cry'd the Clerk Colville,
"O sairer, sairer akes my head;"
"And sairer, sairer ever will,"
The maiden crys, "till you be dead."
Out then he drew his shining blade,
Thinking to stick her where she stood,
But she was vanished to a fish,
And swam far off, a fair mermaid.
"O mother, mother, braid my hair;
My lusty lady, make my bed;
O brother, take my sword and spear,
For I have seen the false mermaid.”