The Cuckoo Oh it's night-o after night love I do lay on me bed With a feathery pillow all under my head Neither waking nor sleeping No rest can I find For the thoughts of that young man He still troubles my mind. I will rise up and meet him As the evening draws nigh I will meet him as the evening, As the evening draws nigh And if you love another, your mind for to ease Oh why can't you love the old one Til the young's learned to please? It's like the flowers all in your garden When their beauty's all gone. Can't you see what I've come to By your loving that one? Oh the grave he will rot you He will turn you to dust. There's not one young man out of twenty That a poor girl can trust. Oh the cuckoo ain't she a merry bird Don't she sing as she flies She brings us glad tidings And she tells us no lies She sucks the small birds' eggs For to keep her voice clear And whenever she hollers "Cuckoo" Don't the summer draw near. Collected from Gypsy singer Queen Caroline Hughes Recorded by Frankie Armstrong SOF
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