Tonart: G major
Verse 1
D
G
C
D
G
D
A wager, a wager,
G
five hundred pound and ten
C
D
That you'll not go to the Broomfield
Am
C
till An na may return again
D
G
C
D
G
And oh, she cried and oh, she sighed
D
G
and oh, she made her moan
C
D
Am
Saying, shall I go to the Broomfield till
or shall I stay at home
D
C
G
D
For if I go on to the Brumfield Hill
G
D
G
And my maidenhead is gone
C
D
C
But if I chance to stay at home
Am
Why then I am forsworn
D
Am
D
There's thirteen months all in one year
G
D
G
As I've heard people say
D
But the finest month in all the year
G
D
G
Is the very merry month of May
C
D
G
Up there spoke an old witch,
D
G
D
one as she sat all alone
G
C
D
Saying, shall go to the
G
Am
Broomfield hill,
and I'll you shall return
D
G
C
For when you get to the
G
D
G
you will find your lover's sleep
C
D
With his hawk in his hand
Am
and his silk satin gown
D
and those ribbons all down to his feet
G
C
He'd take the blossom
G
D
from off of the brun
G
D
The blossom that smelled so sweet
G
C
D
And he'd lay it down all under his head
Am
C
And all of the soles of his feet
D
Am
D
There's thirteen months all in one year
G
D
As I've heard people say
G
C
G
D
But the finest month in all the year
A
G
Is the very merry month of May
C
D
But when she got to the broom -filled hill
G
She found her lover's sleep
C
D
With his hawk in his hand
G
and his silk satin gown
Am
D
And the brim was all down to his feet
G
C
She's taken the blossom
G
And the blossom that smelled so sweet
C
D
And the more she lay it round
Am
D
And about the sounder he did sleep,
G
C
G
D
She stapled the rim from off of her finger,
G
D
G
And laid it at his right hand,
C
D
For to let him know when he awoke,
Am
That she had been there
D
Am
D
There's thirteen months all in one year,
G
D
As I've heard people say,
G
C
D
But the finest month in all the year
G
is the very merry month of May
C
G
Oh, where were you, my good Greystein,
D
G
that I have loved so dear?
C
D
Why did you not stand and waken me
Am
when there was a maiden here?
D
G
C
D
Oh, I stand with my feet, master,
G
D
G
and all my bells I rang,
C
D
G
D
But there was nothing could waken you
Am
D
till she had been and gone.
G
C
D
Oh, haste, haste, my good Gracetee,
G
for to come where she may be,
C
Am
D
Am
Or all the birds in the broom -field hill
D
will eat their fill of thee.
G
C
Oh, you need not break
G
D
G
by racing to her home
C
D
Am
No bird flies faster through the wood
D
than she flew through the broom
Am
There's thirteen months
G
D
G
as I've heard people say
D
G
D
But the finest month in all the year
G
Is the very merry month of May
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