Underneath Her Apron - Steeleye Span

A pretty young girl all in the month of May

A gathering rushes just at the break of day

But before she’s come home she has bore a little son

And she rolled him underneath her aperon

Well, she cried on the threshold and she come in at the door

And she folded in her aperon that pretty babe she bore

Says her father: «Where you been, my pretty daughter Jane

And what’s that you got underneath your aperon ?»

«Father, dear father, it’s nothing,» then says she

«It's only my new gown and that’s too long for me

And I was afraid it would draggle in the dew

So I rolled it underneath my aperon.»

In the dead of the night when all were fast asleep

This pretty little baby, oh, it began to weep

«O what’s that little babe that is crying out so shrill

In the bedroom among the pretty maidens?»

«O father, dear father, it’s nothing then,» said she

«It's just a little bird that my sister gave to me

And build for it a nest and I’ll warm it on my breast

So it don’t wake you early in the May morning.»

In the last part of the night, when they were fast asleep

This pretty little baby again begin to weep

«Oh, what’s that little babe that’s crying out so clear

In the bedroom among the pretty maidens?»

«O father, dear father, it’s nothing then» said she

«It's just a little baby that someone gave to me

Let it lie, let it sleep this night along o' me

And l’ll tell to you its daddy in the May morning.»

«Oh, was it by a black man or was it by a brown

Or was it by a ploughing-boy a-ploughing up and down

That gave you the stranger you wear with your new gown

That you rolled up underneath your aperon ?'

«lt wasn’t by a black man and it wasn’t by a brown

It was by a sailor lad that ploughs the watery main

Lt was him gave me the stranger I wear with my new gown

That I rolled it underneath my aperon.»

«Oh, was it in the kitchen got, or was it in the hall?

Was it in the cow-shed or up against the wall?

I wish I had a firebrand to burn the building down

Where you met with him on a May morning.»

«It wasn’t in the kitchen got, it wasn’t in the hall

It wasn’t in the cow-shed nor up again the wall

It was down by yonder spring where them little birds do sing

That I met with him on a May morning.»