Portmore Lament

For sorrow I weep, my heart is full sore
That I look for the last time on Bonny Portmore
For I never did think I would see such a day
That a coach it would be waiting to bear me away.

I was but a child when I first came to you
And as oaks grow from acorns, from children we grew
You to Lord of your land, I to be your sweet wife
And to dwell in Bonny Portmore all the days of my life.

But how soon we did part, you left before the Spring
And across the sea you traveled at the call of a King
Oh, how cruel is cold Fortune, how wicked is Chance
For you lie dead and broken on some field of France.

Oh, the oak and the ash, they stand as before
And the snowdrops wake up from the cold earth once more
Oh, bloom not, you flowers, this Spring I would not see
For my love is never coming back to Portmore and me.

So farewell to this country, farewell to this day
For without your love to bind me I'll no longer stay
But if I had you now as I had once before
No power under Heaven could make me part from Portmore.

words by Lisa Theriot
music Traditional/arranged by Lisa Theriot

© 1997 Raven Boy Music