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I have been porter of your gates,
these thirty long years and three
Now there stands a lady at your gate,
the like of her I ne’er did see:
For on every finger she’s a ring,
and on the mid finger there’s three,
She’s as much gold above her brow
as would buy an earldom to me.
Out then spoke the bride’s mother,
ay, and an angry woman was she;
You might have excepted our bonny bride,
and two or three of her company
Hold your tongue, thou bride's mother,
of all your folly let me be:
She’s ten times fairer than your bride,
and all that’s in your company.
She desires one sheaf of your wheat bread,
ay, and a glass of your red wine,
And to remember the lady’s love,
Which last reliev’d you out of pain.
O well a day, young Beichan said,
that I so soon have married thee,
For I do vow it is Susie Pye,
has sail’d the seas for love of me.
He took the chair then with his foot,
the table with his knee took he,
Till silver cups and silver canns,
he made them all to flinders flee.
Out then spoke the forenoon bride,
my lord, your love it changes soon,
This morning I was made your bride,
and another chuse ere it be noon.
