O'er the hills and far away (Joseph Haydn)

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  • (Posted 2020-03-01)  CPDL #57312:  Network.png
Editor: Christopher Shaw (submitted 2020-03-01).   Score information: A4, 2 pages, 64 kB   Copyright: Personal
Edition notes: Please click on the link for preview/playback/PDF download. Separate violin part provided.

General Information

Title: O'er the hills and far away
Composer: Joseph Haydn
Lyricist: Thomas D'Urfeycreate page

Number of voices: 1v   Voicing: Unknown
Genre: SecularFolksong

Language: English
Instruments: Keyboard, violin accompaniment

First published: 1792 in A selection of Original Scots Songs

Description: Hob. XXXIA.149 Fakesong from the Celtic tweelight

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text


Jocky met with Jenny fair,
Oft by the dawning of the day;
But Jocky now is full of care,
Since Jenny stole his heart away:
Although she promised to be true
She proven has, alack, unkind;
Which gives poor Jocky often rue
That he e'er woo'd a fickle maid.
And It's o'er the hills and far away,
It's o'er the hills and far away,
It's o'er the hills and far away,
The wind has blown my plaid away.

He sung: when first my Jenny's face
I saw she seemed so full of grace;
With meikle joy my heart was filled,
That's now, alas, with sorrow killed.
Oh was she but as true, as fair,
'Twould put an end to my despair;
Instead of that she is unkind
And wavers like the winter wind.
And It's o'er the hills and far away,
It's o'er the hills and far away,
It's o'er the hills and far away,
The wind has blown my plaid away.

Ah, could she find the dismal woe
That for her sake I undergo,
She could not choose but grant relief,
And put an end to all my grief.
But oh, she is as false as fair,
Which causes all my sighs and care,
But she triumphs in proud disdain,
And takes a pleasure in my pain.
And It's o'er the hills and far away,
It's o'er the hills and far away,
It's o'er the hills and far away,
The wind has blown my plaid away.

Since that she will no pity take,
I maun go wander for her sake,
And in ilk wood and gloomy grove,
I'll sighing sing adieu to love.
Since she is false, whom I adore,
I'll never trust a woman more;
From all their charms I'll proud disdain,
And take a pleasure in my pain.
And It's o'er the hills and far away,
It's o'er the hills and far away,
It's o'er the hills and far away,
The wind has blown my plaid away.