Coll. by Randy Terry Mrs. W.F. Bell
For M.C. Parler Fayetteville, Ark.
January 10, 1960
Reel 337, Item 3
The Waxford Girl
Three weeks ago last Saturday night,
Oh, cursed be the day,
The devil put it in my mind To take my lover's life.
I went into her sister's room At eight o'clock that night,
But little did she think then At her I had a fight.
I asked her to take a walk with me A littlw ways away,
That she and I might have a talk About our wedding day.
So side by side we walked along Till we came to a silent place,
I drew a stake from off the fence And knocked this fair maid down.
Down on her bended knees she knelt And loud for mercy did cry,
Oh love, oh love, don't murder me,
For I'm not fit to die.
I paid little attention to what she said But only struck her the more,
Till the cold damp blood came rushing down To never be restored.
I run my fingers through her coal-black hair To cover up my sins,
I carried her down the riverside And there I plunged her in.
And as I returned back to my home I met my brother John,
He asked what made me look so pale And yet so very warm.
I went into my mother's room At twelve o'clock that night,
My mother being in trouble She raised a tur'ble fright.
-more-Reel 337, Item 3 Continued
My son, my son, what have you done To bloody up your hands and clothes?
The answer I gave her,
Been bleeding at the nose.
I asked her for a candlestick To light me off to bed,
I asked her for a handkerchief To bind my aching head.
I rolled and I rolled and I tumbled all night, I could not be in peace,
It seemed as though the fire of hell Was burning in my breast.
Six days had passed and this fair maid Had never yet been found,
And one day her body came floating through Expert town.
Come all young men, fair warning take And to your lover be true,
And never let the devil get The upper hand of you.
Click tabs to swap between content that is broken into logical sections.