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As I went out one May morning |
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To view the fields and leaves a-springing |
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I saw two maidens standing by |
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And one of them her hands was wringing |
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Oh dear-o ! oh dear-o ! |
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My husband's got no courage in him. |
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Oh dear-o ! |
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Me husband's admired wherever he goes |
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And everyone looks well upon him |
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With his handsome features and well-shaped leg |
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But still he's got no courage in him |
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Me husband can dance and caper and sing |
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And do anything that's fitting for him |
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But he cannot do the thing I want |
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Because he's got no courage in him |
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All sorts of vittles I did provide |
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A sorts of meats that's fitting for him |
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With oyster pie and rhubarb too |
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But still he's got no courage in him |
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Every night when I goes to bed |
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I lie and throw me leg right o'er him |
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And me hand I clamp between his thighs |
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But I can't put any courage in him |
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Seven long years I've made his bed |
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And every night I've lain beside him |
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But this morning I rose with me maidenhead |
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For still he's got no courage in him |
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I wish me husband he was dead |
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And in his grave I'd quickly lay him |
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And then I'd find another one |
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That had a little courage in him |
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So all ye maids come listen to me |
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Don't marry a man before you've tried him |
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Or else you'll sing this song like me |
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Me husband's got no courage in him |
