Collected by M.C. Parler Sung by Bessie Atchley
Transcribed by Bessie Atchley Green Forest, Arkansas
July 7, 1960
Reel 387, Item 2
Butcher Boy
In London city where I did dwell,
A butcher boy I loved so well:
He courted me my life sway
And with me than he would not stay.
There is a strange house in this town Where he goes up and sits right down.
He takes another girl on his knee
And tells her things that he won't tell mo.
I have to grieve I'll tell you why Because sbe has more gold than I:
Gold will melt and silver will fly, in time of need she'll be as poor as I.
I went up stairs to go to bed And nothing to my mother said,
But mother said," You are acting queer. What seems to trouble my daughter, dear?"
Oh, mother dear, you need not know My pain and sorrow grief and woe,
Give me a chair and sit me down With pen and ink to write words down.
Go dig my grave both wide and deep Place a marble stone at my head and feet Upon my breast a snow white dove To show this world, I've died for love.
And when her father first came home "Where is my daughter, where has she gone?" He went up stairs and the door he broke And found her hanging from a rope.
He took his knife and cut her down,
And in her bosom these words he found;
"A silly girl I am you know
To hang myself for the butcher boy."
"Must I go bound while he goes free?
Must I love a boy who don't love me?
Alas! Allas! it will never be,
'Til oranges grow on apple trees.