I'm Seventeen Come Sunday

As I rose up one May morning,

One May morning so wurly,

I overtook a pretty fair maid,

Just as the sun was dawnin',

With me rue rum ray,

Fother didle ay,

Wok fol air didle ido.

Her stockin's white, and her boots were bright,

And her buckling shone like silver;

She had a dark and a rolling eye,

And her hair hung round her shoulder,

With me rue rum ray, etc.

Where are you going, my pretty fair maid,

Where are you going my honey?"

She answered me right cheerfully:

I'm an errand for me mummy,"

With me rue rum ray, etc.

How old are you, my pretty fair maid,

How old are you, my honey?"

She answered me right cheerfully:

I am seventeen come Sunday."

With me rue rum ray, etc.

Will you take a man, my pretty fair maid,

Will you take a man, my honey?"

She answer'd me right cheerfully:

"I darst not for me mummy, "

With me rue rum ray, etc.

Will you come down to my mummy's house,

When the moon shone bright and clearly.

You'll come down, I'll let you in,

And me mummy shall not hear me, "

With me rue rum ray, etc.

"O it's now I'm with my soldier lad,

His ways they are so winnin';

It's drum and fife is my delight,

And a pint o' rum in the mornin'."

With me rue rum ray, etc.

Fa la la la

lay fol day, fol airy dido.