Sunday Morning

Here of a Sunday morning my love and I would lie

and see the coloured counties and here the larks so high

Above us in the sky

The bells would ring to call her in valleys miles away

Come all to church good people good people come and pray

But here my love would stay

And I would turn and answer among the springing thyme

Oh peal upon our wedding and we vill hear the chime

And come to church in time

But when it snows at Christmas on Brendon top where strown

my love rose up so early and stole out unbeknown

And went to church alone

They tolled the one bell only groome there was none to see

the mourners folowed after and so to church went she

And would not wait for me

The bells they sound on Brendon and still the steeples hum

Come all to church good people Oh noisy bell be dumb

Ihear you I will come