"The Young Girl Cut Down In Her Prime" गीत

As I was a-walking one midsummer morning,
As I was a-walking along the highway,
Who should I see but my own dearest daughter,
With her head wrapped in flannel on a hot summer's day.

O mother, dear mother, come set you down by me.
Come set you down by me and pity my case;
For my wounds are now aching, my poor heart is breaking,
And I'm in low spirits and surely must die.

O mother, dear mother, come send for the clergyman,
O send for the doctor to bind up my wound,
And likewise my young man, whose heart it did wander,
That he may see me before I'm screwed down.

And when I am dead to the churchyard they'll bear me,
Six jolly fellows to carry me on,
And in each of their hands a bunch of green laurel,
So they may not smell me as they're walking along.

So rattle your drums and play your fife over me,
So rattle your drums as we march along.
Then return to your home and think on that young girl:
Oh, there goes a young girl cut down in her prime