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The Foggy Dew

England and Scotland.
Words from oral tradition.
This tune collated from Scottish and English sources.

    When I was a bachelor, I lived alone,
    And I worked at the weaving trade,
    And all the harm that ever I done
    Was courting a servant maid.
    I courted her one winter's morn,
    One summer's day or two,
    And I oft-times wished her into my arms
    And out of the foggy dew.

    One night she came to my bedside
    Where I lay fast asleep.
    She laid her head upon my bed
    And bitterly did she weep.
    She wept, she moaned, she tore her hair,
    Crying, O what shall I do ?
    For this night I'm resolved to sleep with you
    For fear of the foggy dew.

    So all the first part of the night
    How we did sport and play.
    And all the latter part of the night
    She, in my arms, did lay.
    And when the daylight did appear
    She cried, I am undone.
    O rise, fair maid, be not afraid,
    For the foggy dew is gone.

    Suppose that we should have a child,
    It would make you laugh and smile.
    Suppose that we should have another,
    It would make you think awhile.
    And if we have another, my dear,
    And then another, too,
    Why, we must leave off kissing, my dear,
    And think on the foggy dew.

    One night she start to moan and cry,
    Says I, What's up with you ?
    Says she, I should never have been this way
    If it hadn't of been for you.
    I got my boots and trousers on,
    I got my neighbour, too,
    But do what we would, we could do her no good,
    And she died in the foggy dew.

    So I am a bachelor, I live with my son,
    And we work at the weaving trade.
    And when I look in his face, I can see
    The eyes of that fair young maid.
    It reminds me of the winter time,
    And of the summer, too,
    And the many nights that she laid in my arms
    For fear of the foggy dew.

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