This version is from Kennedy, The Folksongs of Britain and Ireland (1975).
YOUNG ROGER ESQUIRE
Young Roger Esquire came a-courting of late
To a rich farmer's daughter called beautiful Kate
She had fine precious clothing, she'd jewels and rich rings
And she for her fortune had many fine things
And she for her fortune had five thousand pound
With rich rings and jewels
With rich rings and jewels
And a piece of fine ground
The day being appointed and the money laid down
Was not that a fine fortune of five thousand pounds
If I marry your daughter I'll need the grey mare
Young Roger he swore that he would have his fair share
Young Roger he swore by his long curling hair
I'll not wed your daughter
I'll not wed your daughter
Without the grey mare
Then spoke up her father and thus say-ed he
I thought that you lov-ed my daughter indeed
The money again shall return to my purse
But as I have got her my daughter's no worse
But as I have got her thus far in my care
You shall not have my daughter
You shall not have my daughter
Nor yet the grey mare
Then twelve months being over and a little above
Young Roger Esquire met Katie his love
Saying: Katie, loving Katie, O don't you know me?
Such a man of your likeness I chance for to see
Such a man of your likeness with curling long hair
That once came a-courting
That once came a-courting
My father's grey mare
Says Roger to Katie them words I'll deny
And the truth of the story I will on you try
I'm now very sorry for what I have done
I thought that your father had lost a good son
I thought that your father would have made no dispute
But to give me his daughter
But to give me his daughter
And the grey mare to bootClick to play
Alternate verses:from Frank Kidson, Traditional Tunes, 1891:
The glittering money and beauty likewise
Did tickle his fancy and dazzle his eyes
Which caus-ed young Roger to tell of his mind
And unto his lover be constant and kind
That no other woman should ere be his bride
For thou art my jewel
For thou art my jewel
My jewel and pride
Then Roger that rascal was turned out of door
And bid to begone and come there no more
Then Roger he tore his locks of long hair
And he wished he’d never stayed for the grey mare
Then Roger he tore his locks of long hair
And he wished he’d never stayed
And he wished he’d never stayed
For the grey mare