MEG MERRILIES
CHORUS:
Old Meg she was a Gipsy
And liv`d upon the Moors
Her bed it was the brown heath turf
And her house was out of doors
Her apples were swart blackberries
Her currants pods o` broom
Her wine, dew of the wild white rose
Her book a churchyard tomb
Her Brothers were the craggy hills
Her Sisters larchen trees
Alone with her great family
She liv`d as she did please
[CHORUS]
No breakfast had she many a morn
No dinner many a noon
And `stead of supper she would stare
Full hard against the Moon
But every morn of woodbine fresh
She made her garlanding
And every night the dark glen yew
She wove, and she would sing
[CHORUS]
And with her fingers old and brown
She plaited Mats o` Rushes
And gave them to the cottagers
She met among the bushes
Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen
And tall as Amazon
An old red blanket cloak she wore
A chip hat had she on
God rest her aged bones somewhere
She died full long agone!
Keats The Musical - Meg Merrilies Lyrics
Keats The Musical - Meg Merrilies Lyrics
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MEG MERRILIES
CHORUS:
Old Meg she was a Gipsy
And liv`d upon the Moors
Her bed it was the brown heath turf
And her house was out of doors
Her apples were swart blackberries
Her currants pods o` broom
Her wine, dew of the wild white rose
Her book a churchyard tomb
Her Brothers were the craggy hills
Her Sisters larchen trees
Alone with her great family
She liv`d as she did please
[CHORUS]
No breakfast had she many a morn
No dinner many a noon
And `stead of supper she would stare
Full hard against the Moon
But every morn of woodbine fresh
She made her garlanding
And every night the dark glen yew
She wove, and she would sing
[CHORUS]
And with her fingers old and brown
She plaited Mats o` Rushes
And gave them to the cottagers
She met among the bushes
Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen
And tall as Amazon
An old red blanket cloak she wore
A chip hat had she on
God rest her aged bones somewhere
She died full long agone!
CHORUS:
Old Meg she was a Gipsy
And liv`d upon the Moors
Her bed it was the brown heath turf
And her house was out of doors
Her apples were swart blackberries
Her currants pods o` broom
Her wine, dew of the wild white rose
Her book a churchyard tomb
Her Brothers were the craggy hills
Her Sisters larchen trees
Alone with her great family
She liv`d as she did please
[CHORUS]
No breakfast had she many a morn
No dinner many a noon
And `stead of supper she would stare
Full hard against the Moon
But every morn of woodbine fresh
She made her garlanding
And every night the dark glen yew
She wove, and she would sing
[CHORUS]
And with her fingers old and brown
She plaited Mats o` Rushes
And gave them to the cottagers
She met among the bushes
Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen
And tall as Amazon
An old red blanket cloak she wore
A chip hat had she on
God rest her aged bones somewhere
She died full long agone!
Writer: Álvaro Nascimento Vieira
Copyright: Lyrics © Tratore
Copyright: Lyrics © Tratore