Broomfield Hill chords by Jon Boden

SimplifiedD · G · C · Am · A

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Verse 1
D 
G 
C 
D 
G 
D 
A wager,  a wager,
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five hundred pound and ten
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D 
That you'll not go to the Broomfield
Am 
C 
till An  na may return again
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G 
C 
D 
G 
And oh, she cried and oh, she sighed
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G 
and oh, she made her moan
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D 
Am 
Saying, shall I go to the Broomfield till
or shall I stay at home
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C 
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D 
For if I go on to the Brumfield Hill
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D 
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And my maidenhead is gone
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D 
C 
But if I chance to stay at home
Am 
Why then I am forsworn
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Am 
D 
There's thirteen months all in one year
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D 
G 
As I've heard people say
D 
But the finest month in all the year
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D 
G 
Is the very merry month of May
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D 
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Up there spoke an old witch,
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D 
one as she sat all alone
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Saying, shall go to the
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Broomfield hill,
and I'll you shall return
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C 
For when you get to the
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Broomfield hill,
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D 
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you will find your lover's sleep
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D 
With his hawk in his hand
Am 
and his silk satin gown
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and those ribbons all down to his feet
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C 
He'd take the blossom
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D 
from off of the brun
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D 
The blossom that smelled so sweet
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C 
D 
And he'd lay it down all under his head
Am 
C 
And all of the soles of his feet
D 
Am 
D 
There's thirteen months all in one year
G 
D 
As I've heard people say
G 
C 
G 
D 
But the finest month in all the year
A 
G 
Is the very merry month of May
C 
D 
But when she got to the broom -filled hill
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She found her lover's sleep
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D 
With his hawk in his hand
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and his silk satin gown
Am 
D 
And the brim was all down to his feet
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C 
She's taken the blossom
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from off of the broom
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And the blossom that smelled so sweet
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D 
And the more she lay it round
Am 
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And about the sounder he did sleep,
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C 
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D 
She stapled the rim from off of her finger,
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D 
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And laid it at his right hand,
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D 
For to let him know when he awoke,
Am 
That she had been there
C 
at his command.
D 
Am 
D 
There's thirteen months all in one year,
G 
D 
As I've heard people say,
G 
C 
D 
But the finest month in all the year
G 
is the very merry month of May
C 
G 
Oh, where were you, my good Greystein,
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that I have loved so dear?
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Why did you not stand and waken me
Am 
when there was a maiden here?
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Oh, I stand with my feet, master,
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and all my bells I rang,
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But there was nothing could waken you
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till she had been and gone.
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Oh, haste, haste, my good Gracetee,
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for to come where she may be,
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Am 
D 
Am 
Or all the birds in the broom -field hill
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will eat their fill of thee.
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C 
Oh, you need not break
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your good grace deep
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D 
G 
by racing to her home
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D 
Am 
No bird flies faster through the wood
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than she flew through the broom
Am 
There's thirteen months
D 
all in one year,
G 
D 
G 
as I've heard people say
D 
G 
D 
But the finest month in all the year
G 
Is the very merry month of May