***Songs To While The Time By- The Roots Is The Toots- Butcher Boy
Over the past several years I have been running an occasional series in this space of songs, mainly political protest songs, you know The Internationale, Union Maid, Which Side Are You On, Viva La Quince Brigada, Universal Soldier, and such entitled Songs To While The Class Struggle By. This series which could include some protest songs as well is centered on roots music as it has come down the ages and formed the core of the American songbook. You will find the odd, the eccentric, the forebears of later musical trends, and the just plain amusing here. Listen up-Peter Paul Markin
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In London city where I did dwell
A butcher boy, I loved right well
He courted me, my life away
But now with me, he will not stay
I wish, I wish, I wish in vain
I wish I was a maid again
A maid again I ne'er will be
'Till cherries grow on an apple tree
I wish my baby it was born
And smiling on its daddy's knee
And me poor girl to be dead and gone
With the long green grass growing over me
She went upstairs to go to bed
And calling to her mother said
"Give me a chair 'till I sit down
And a pen and ink 'till I write down"
At every word she dropped a tear
And at every line cried "Willie dear -
Oh, what a foolish girl was I
To be led astray by a butcher boy"
He went upstairs and the door he broke
He found her hanging from a rope
He took his knife and he cut her down
And in her pocket, these words he found
Oh, make my grave large, wide and deep
Put a marble stone at my head and feet
And in the middle, a turtle dove
That the world may know, that I died of love.
In London city where I did dwell
A butcher boy, I loved right well
He courted me, my life away
But now with me, he will not stay
I wish, I wish, I wish in vain
I wish I was a maid again
A maid again I ne'er will be
'Till cherries grow on an apple tree
I wish my baby it was born
And smiling on its daddy's knee
And me poor girl to be dead and gone
With the long green grass growing over me
She went upstairs to go to bed
And calling to her mother said
"Give me a chair 'till I sit down
And a pen and ink 'till I write down"
At every word she dropped a tear
And at every line cried "Willie dear -
Oh, what a foolish girl was I
To be led astray by a butcher boy"
He went upstairs and the door he broke
He found her hanging from a rope
He took his knife and he cut her down
And in her pocket, these words he found
Oh, make my grave large, wide and deep
Put a marble stone at my head and feet
And in the middle, a turtle dove
That the world may know, that I died of love.
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