Английская поэзия XIV–XX веков в современных русских переводах

Of all the girls that are so smart

There’s none like pretty Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

There is no lady in the land

Is half so sweet as Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

Her father he makes cabbage-nets,

And through the streets does cry ‘em;

Her mother she sells laces long

To such as please to buy ‘em:

But sure such folks could ne’er beget

So sweet a girl as Sally!

She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in my alley.

When she is by, I leave my work,

I love her so sincerely;

My master comes like any Turk,

And bangs me most severely:

But let him bang his bellyful,

I’ll bear it all for Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

Of all the days that’s in the week

I dearly love but one day —

And that’s the day that comes betwixt

A Saturday and Monday;

For then I’m drest all in my best

To walk abroad with Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

My master carries me to church,

And often am I blamèd

Because I leave him in the lurch

As soon as text is namèd;

I leave the church in sermon-time

And slink away to Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

When Christmas comes about again,

O, then I shall have money;

I’ll hoard it up, and box it all,

I’ll give it to my honey:

I would it were ten thousand pound

I’d give it all to Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

My master and the neighbours all

Make game of me and Sally,

And, but for her, I’d better be

A slave and row a galley;

But when my seven long years are out,

O, then I’ll marry Sally;

O, then we’ll wed, and then we’ll bed —

But not in our alley!