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Young Girl Cut Down in Her Prime
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As I was a-walking one midsummer's morning As I was a-walking along the highway When who should I see but my own dearest daughter With her head wrapped in flannel on a hot summer's day “Oh mother, dear mother, come sit you down by me Come sit you down by me and pity my case For my poor head is aching, my poor heart is breaking And I'm in low spirits and surely must die “Oh mother, dear mother, come send for the clergyman And send for the doctor to heal up my wound And likewise my young man whose heart it did wander So that he may see me bеfore I'm put down “And when I am dead to thе churchyard they'll bear me There's 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 march along” So rattle your drum and play your fife over me And sing the dead march as we walk all along Then return to your homes and think of that young girl “Oh, there goes a young girl cut down in her prime”
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