| 1 |
'O hangman, hold thy hand,' he cried,
'O hold thy hand awhile,
For I can see my own dear father
Coming over yonder stile. |
| 2 |
'O father, have you brought me gold?
Or will you set me free?
Or be you come to see me hung,
All on this high gallows-tree?' |
| 3 |
'No, I have not brought thee gold,
And I will not set thee free,
But I am come to see thee hung,
All on this high gallows-tree.' |
| 4 |
'Oh, the prickly bush, the prickly bush,
It pricked my heart full sore;
If ever I get out of the prickly bush,
I'll never get in any more.' |
| 5 |
'Yes, I have brought thee gold,' she cried,
'And I will set thee free,
And I am come, but not to see thee hung
All on this high gallous-tree.'
'Oh, the prickly bush,' etc. |
