Classic Poem

As I walked out one cold winter night,
And drinking good old wine,
A-thinking of that pretty little girl,
That stole this heart of mine —

And she looks like some pink rose
That blooms in the month of June,
And now she's like some instrument
Been newly put in tune.

I asked your mamma for you, my love;
She said you were too young.
I wish I'd never seen your face,
Or had died when I was young.

Oh, who will shoe your little feet,
And who will glove your hand,
Oh, who will kiss your ruby lips,
While I'm in a foreign land?

Your papa, my dear, will shoe your feet,
And your mamma will glove your hand;
And I will kiss your ruby lips,
When I return again.

Fare you well, my own true love,
Fare you well, for awhile;
If I go away, I'll come again,
If I go ten thousand mile.

If ever I prove false to you,
The elements shall mourn;
If ever I false prove to you,
The sea would rage and burn.