Track byIsla St Clair
A North Countrie lass up to London did pass Although with her nature it did not agree, Which made her repent and so often lament Still wishing again in the North for to be O the oak, and the ash, and the bonny rowan tree Do flourish at home in the North Countrie Fain would I be in the North Countrie Where the lads and the lasses are making of hay; There should I see what is pleasant to me A mischief on them that enticed me away O the oak, and the ash, and the bonny rowan tree Do flourish most bravely in our countrie. Since I came forth of the pleasant North There's nothing delightful I see doth abound; They never can be half so merry as we When we are a-dancing of Sellinger's Round. O the oak, and the ash, and the bonny rowan tree Do flourish at home in our own countrie. But still I percieve I a husband might have If I to the city my mind could but frame; But I'll have a lad that is North Countrie bred Or else I'll not marry, in the mind that I am. O the oak, and the ash, and the bonny rowan tree Do flourish most bravely in our countrie.