Songtekst:
UNFORTUNATE LASS
As I was a-walking one fine summer's morning,
One fine summer's morning all early in May,
Who should I spy but my own daughter Mary,
All wrapped up in flannel some hot summer' s day
"O mother, O mother, come sit you down by me,
Come sit you down by me and pity my case:
It's of a young officer lately deserted,
See how he has brought me to shame and disgrace"
"O daughter, O daughter, why hadn't you told me?
Why hadn't you told me, we'd took it in time,"
"I might have got salts and pills of white mercury,
But now I' m a young girl cut down in my prime "
"O doctor, O doctor, come wash up your bottles,
Come wash up your bottles and wipe them quite dry,
My bones they are aching, my poor heart's a-breaking,
And I in a deep solemn fashion must die
Have six jolly fellows to carry my coffin,
Have six pretty maidens to bear up my pall,
Give to each pretty fair maid a glass of brown ale
Saying, "Here lies the bones of a true-hearted girl"
Come rattle your drums and play your fifes merrily,
Merrily play the dead marches along,
Saying, "There goes a true-hearted girl to her home"'
From My Song is My Own, Henderson
@death @doctor @illness
filename[ UNFORTLS
playexe UNFORTLS
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY
As I was a-walking one fine summer's morning,
One fine summer's morning all early in May,
Who should I spy but my own daughter Mary,
All wrapped up in flannel some hot summer' s day
"O mother, O mother, come sit you down by me,
Come sit you down by me and pity my case:
It's of a young officer lately deserted,
See how he has brought me to shame and disgrace"
"O daughter, O daughter, why hadn't you told me?
Why hadn't you told me, we'd took it in time,"
"I might have got salts and pills of white mercury,
But now I' m a young girl cut down in my prime "
"O doctor, O doctor, come wash up your bottles,
Come wash up your bottles and wipe them quite dry,
My bones they are aching, my poor heart's a-breaking,
And I in a deep solemn fashion must die
Have six jolly fellows to carry my coffin,
Have six pretty maidens to bear up my pall,
Give to each pretty fair maid a glass of brown ale
Saying, "Here lies the bones of a true-hearted girl"
Come rattle your drums and play your fifes merrily,
Merrily play the dead marches along,
Saying, "There goes a true-hearted girl to her home"'
From My Song is My Own, Henderson
@death @doctor @illness
filename[ UNFORTLS
playexe UNFORTLS
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY
