X:1
T:Poor Murdered Woman
B:Broadwood, L, 1908, English Traditional Songs and Carols, London, Boosey
N:Reprinted by EP Publishing Limited, Rowman & Littlefield, Totowa, New Jersey, 1974
Z:Lucy Broadwood
S:Mr Foster. 1897
F:http://www.folkinfo.org/songs
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w:It was Han-key the_ squi-er, as I have heard say,
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w:Who rode out a-hunt-ing on one Sat-ur-day.
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w:They hunt-ed all day__ but no-thing they found.
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w:But a poor mur-dered_ wo-man, laid on the cold ground.
W:It was Hankey the squi-er, as I have heard say,
W:Who rode out a-hunting on one Saturday.
W:They hunted all day but nothing they found.
W:But a poor murdered woman, laid on the cold ground.
W:
W:About eight o'clock, boys, our dogs they throwed off,
W:On Leatherhead Common, and that was the spot;
W:They tried all the bushes, but nothing they found
W:But a poor murdered woman, laid on the cold ground.
W:
W:They whipped their dogs off, and kept them away,
W:For I do think it's proper he should have fair play;
W:They tried all the bushes, but nothing they found
W:But a poor murdered woman, laid on the cold ground.
W:
W:They mounted their horses, and rode off the ground,
W:They rode to the village, and alarmed it all round,
W:"It is late in the evening, I am sorry to say,
W:She can not be remov-ed until the next day."
W:
W:The next Sunday morning, about eight o'clock,
W:Some hundreds of people to the spot they did flock;
W:For to see the poor creature your hearts would have bled,
W:Some odious violence had come to her head.
W:
W:She was took off the coffin, and down to some inn,
W:And the man that has kept it, his name is John Simms.
W:The coroner was sent for, the jury they joined,
W:And soon they concluded, and settled their mind.
W:
W:Her coffin was brought; in it she was laid,
W:And took to the churchyard that was called Leatherhead,
W:No father, no mother, nor no friend, I'm told,
W:Come to see that poor creature put under the mold.
W:
W:So now I'll conclude, and finish my song,
W:And those that have done it, they will find themselves wrong.
W:For the last day of Judgement the trumpet will sound,
W:And their souls not in heaven, I'm afraid, won't be found.
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