| 1 |
'Hold up, hold up your hands so high!
Hold up your hands so high!
For I think I see my own father
Coming over yonder stile to me. |
| 2 |
'Oh father, have you got any gold for me?
Any money for to pay me free?
To keep my body from the cold clay ground,
And my neck from the gallows-tree?' |
| 3 |
'Oh no, I've got no gold for thee,
No money for to pay thee free,
For I've come to see thee hangd this day,
And hang d thou shalt be.' |
| 4 |
'Oh the briers, prickly briers,
Come prick my heart so sore;
I ever I get from the gallows-tree,
I'll never get there any more.'
* * * * * |
| 5 |
'Oh yes, I've got some gold for thee,
Some money for to pay thee free;
I'll save thy body from the cold clay ground,
And thy neck from the gallows-tree.' |
| 6 |
'Oh the briers, prickly briers,
Don't prick my heart any more;
For now I've got from the gallows'tree
I'll never get there any more.' |
