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The Golden Glove

This song is by Nic Jones and appears on the album The Noah's Ark Trap (1977).

Oh it's of a young squire in Tamworth we hear
And he courted a nobleman's daughter so fair.
And all for to marry her it was his intent;
And the friends and relations they'd given their consent.

Now a day was appointed for their wedding day
And the farmer he was appointed for to give her away;
But as soon as the lady this farmer did spy,
Oh, her heart was inflamed and bitterly she did cry.

And she turned from the squire but nothing she said,
But instead of getting married she took to her bed.
And the thoughts of the farmer so ran in her mind,
A way for to have him she quickly did find.

Coat, waistcoat and trousers the young girl put on
And away she went a-hunting with her dog and her gun.
And she hunted around where the farmer he did dwell
Because in her heart, oh, she loved him right well.

And she oftentimes fired but nothing she killed
Until this young farmer came into the field;
And for to talk with him it was her intent
And with her dog and her gun then to meet him she went.

"Oh I thought you would have been at the wedding," she cried,
"For to wait on the squire and to give him his bride."
"Oh no," said the farmer, "I'll take a sword in my hand.
By honour I'd gain her whenever she command."

And the lady was pleased when she heard him so bold
And she gave him a glove that was made out of gold;
And she told him that she found it she was coming along
As she went out a-hunting with her dog and her gun.

And this lady went home with a heart full of love
And she gave out a notice that she'd lost her glove
And, "Whoever found it and he brings it to me,
Whoever he is then my husband shall be."

The farmer he was pleased when he heard of the news
And with a heart full of love to the lady he goes.
"Oh lady, oh lady, I've picked up your glove,
And I hope that you'll be pleased for to grant me some love."

"Oh it's already granted, I will be your bride,
For I love the sweet breath of the farmer," she cried.
"I'll be mistress of your dairy and I'll milk all your cows
While my jolly old farmer goes whistling on his plough."

And it's when they got married and they told of the fun
How she'd gone out a-hunting with her dog and her gun.

Credits Edit

  • Traditional/Arranged Nic Jones
  • Roud Folk Song Index #141

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