Collected by Parler Mildred Johnson
In Folklore Class Fayetteville, Ark.
Reel 362, Item 17
The Butcher Boy
"I learned this from my pupils at Red River Station in Texas, (c. 1925)"
In London City where I did dwell,
Lived the butcher boy I loved so well,
He courted me my life away,
And with me then he would not stay.
There is a strange place in the town,
Where he goes there and sits right down,
He holds another girl on his knee,
And he tells her things that he won't tell me.
Must I go bound while he goes free?
Must I love a boy that don't love me?
Alas, alas, It'll never be,
Till oranges grow on a livecak tree.
Dig me a grave both wide and deep,
Put a marble stone at my head and feet,
Upon my breast a snow-white dove
To show to the world that I died for love.
Her father came home
Where is my daughter, where has she gone?
He went upstairs and the door he broke,
And found her hanging from a rope.
Now listen, girls, and listen well,
A sad, sad story I will tell,
Don't ever trust a man with your life,
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