The Young Tradition – The Bitter Withy chords



[Verse 1]
DAs it fell out upon a bright holiday
C GSmall hail from the sky did fall;
DOur Saviour asked his mother dear
G D GIf he might play at ball.
[Verse 2]
D“At ball? At ball? My own dear son?
C GIt's time that you was gone,
DBut don't let me hear of any doings
G D GTonight when you return.”
[Verse 3]
DSo it's up the hill, and down the hill
C GOur sweet young Saviour ran,
DUntil he met three rich young lords
G D GAll playing in the sun.
[Verse 4]
D“Good morn, good morn, good morn”, cried they,
C G“Good morning,” oh says he,
D“And which one of you three rich young lords
G D GWill play at ball with me?”
[Verse 5]
D“Well, we're all lords' and ladies' sons,
C GAll born in a bower and hall,
DAnd you are nothing but a Jewish child
G D GBorn in an oxen stall”
[Instrumental 1] D C G D G D G [Verse 6]
D“Well, though you're lords' and ladies' sons
C GAll born in your bower and hall
DI'll prove to you at your latter end
G D GI'm an angel above you all”
[Verse 7]
DSo he built him a bridge from the beams of the sun
C GAnd over the river danced he;
DThem rich young lords followed after him
G D GAnd drowned they was all three.
[Verse 8]
DSo it's up the hill and down the hill
C GThree rich young mothers run
DCrying “Mary mild, fetch you home your child
G D GFor ours he's drowned each one.”
[Verse 9]
DSo Mary mild fetched home her child,
C GShe laid him across her knee
DAnd with a bundle of withy twigs
G D GShe gave him thrashes three.
[Verse 10]
D“Oh bitter withy. oh bitter withy
C GThat causes me to smart.
DOh the withy shall be very first tree
G D GTo perish at the heart.”
[Instrumental 2] D C G D G D G
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