| In London city where I did dwell
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| A butcher boy, I loved right well
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| He courted me, my life away
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| But now with me, he will not stay
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| I wish, I wish, I wish in vain
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| I wish I was a maid again
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| A maid again I ne’er will be
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| 'Till cherries grow on an ivy tree
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| I wish my baby it was born
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| And smiling on its daddy’s knee
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| And me poor girl to be dead and gone
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| With the long green grass growing over me
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| She went upstairs to go to bed
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| And calling to her mother said
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| «Give me a chair 'till I sit down
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| And a pen and ink 'till I write down»
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| At every word she dropped a tear
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| And at every line cried «Willie dear
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| Oh, what a foolish girl was I
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| To be led astray by a butcher boy»
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| He went upstairs and the door he broke
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| He found her hanging from a rope
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| He took his knife and he cut her down
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| And in her pocket, these words he found
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| Oh, make my grave large, wide and deep
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| Put a marble stone at my head and feet
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| And in the middle, a turtle dove
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| That the world may know, that I died for love |