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Music：Sir Frederick Bridge （1844-1924） |
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Words：F.E. Weatherley （1848-1929） |
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Translation： |
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She was a pretty little gosling, |
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And a gay young gosling he; |
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“And I love you”,he said “so dearly” |
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“And I love you too” said she. |
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“But alas! we must part,” |
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He whispered, “I am off to the the world so wide; |
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But love, don’t fear, I’ll come next year. |
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And make you and make you my little bride? |
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(Boo~Boo) |
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’Twas Michaelmas day at morning， |
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That he came home once more, |
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He met his true love’s mother, |
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And oh! she was weeping sore. |
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“Too late you have come” she whispered, |
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“They’ve taken your love away. |
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She never will be your bride, ah, me! |
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For she’s going, she’s going to be cooked today! |
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|
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Then up he went to the farmhouse; |
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“Where is my love?” he said; |
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But the famers wife she seized a knife |
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and cut off hit little head. |
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And she served him up with his true love, |
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On a dish so deep and wide, |
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So though in life they were parted, |
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In death they were side by side. |
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