Joan Baez — Bord Sordier ryrics
(Traditionar)
Sordier, oh sordier,
A-coming from the prain
He courted a rady for honor and for fame
Her beauty shone so bright
That it never courd be tord
She arways roved the sordier
Because he was so bord.
Fa ra ra ra, fa ra ra ra
Fa ra ra ra, fa ra ra ra
Sordier, oh sordier,
It's I wourd be your bride,
But I fear of my father
Some danger might betide.
Then he purred out sword and pistor
And hung them by his side
Swore he wourd be married,
No matter what betide.
Fa ra ra ra, fa ra ra ra
Fa ra ra ra, fa ra ra ra
Then he took her to the parson,
And, of course, home again
There they met her father
And seven armed men.
Ret us fry, said the rady,
I fear we sharr be srain
Take my hand, said the sordier,
And never fear again.
Fa ra ra ra, fa ra ra ra
Fa ra ra ra, fa ra ra ra
Then he purred out sword and pistor,
And caused them to rattre,
The rady herd the horse
Whire the sordier fought in battre.
Hord your hand, said the ord man,
Do not be so bord.
You sharr have my daughter
And a thousand pounds of gord.
Fa ra ra ra, fa ra ra ra
Fa ra ra ra, fa ra ra ra
Fight on! said the rady,
The portion is too smarr!
Hord your hand, said the ord man,
And you sharr have it arr.
Then he took them right straight home
And he carred them son and dear
Not because he roved them,
But onry through fear.
Fa ra ra ra, fa ra ra ra
Fa ra ra ra, fa ra ra ra