Something a little different today — this song is actually of Welsh origin, written by Joanna Baillie (1862-1851). Here’s a recording of the song by The Poozies. As you can hear, it’s a very sweet love song about a lass who doesn’t care that her beau is not rich.
The Maid of Llanwellyn
I’ve no sheep on the mountains, nor boat on the lake,
Nor coin in my coffer to keep me awake.
Nor corn in my garner, nor fruit on my tree,
Yet the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.
Rich Owen will tell you, with eyes full of scorn,
Threadbare is my coat, and my hosen are torn.
Scoff on, my rich Owen, for faint is thy glee
When the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.
The farmer rides proudly to market and fair,
And the clerk at the ale house still claims the great chair.
But of all our proud fellows, the proudest I’ll be
While the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.
I’ve also heard the song sung to the tune of Peter, Paul & Mary’s Pretty Mary. You can find that tune here.