The Lass of Aughrim [German translation]

Lord Gregory:

If you be the Lass of Aughrim

As I suppose you not to be,

Come tell me the last token

That passed between you and me.

The Lass of Aughrim:

Oh Gregory, don’t you remember

That night on yon lean hill?

When we both met together

Which I’m sorry now to tell.

The rain falls on my yellow locks.

The dew it wets my skin.

My babe lies cold within my arms.

Oh Gregory, let me in.

Oh Gregory, don’t you remember

One night on yon lean hill?

When we swapped rings

Off each others hands

Sorely against my will.

Yours was of the beaten gold.

Mine was but black tin.

Yours cost one guinea, love.

Mine was but one cent.

The rain falls on my yellow locks.

The dew it wets my skin.

My babe lies cold within my arms.

Oh Gregory, let me in.

Oh Gregory, don’t you remember

That night in my Father’s hall?

When you had your will of me

And that was worse than all.

The rain falls on my yellow locks.

The dew it wets my skin.

My babe lies cold within my arms.

Oh Gregory, let me in.

• Artist:Irish/Scottish/Celtic Folk