Mary Jo Davis
For M. C. Parler
Sung by Marie Washam
DeValls Bluff, Arkansas
June 13, 1954
Draw nigh, young men, pray lend attention,
To this story I'm about to write,
Of a fair young man I will make mention,
Who courted a charming beauty bright.
And when his parents came to know it,
They strived to part them night and day,
To part him from his own dear loved one,
She's poor, she's poor, they'd often say.
The lady being young and witty,
Not knowing what she had to go through,
She strolled down to the organ city,
Where pleasant groves of shades to view.
She strolled down by the organ city,
Placed herself beneath a tree,
Says, will I now or will I ever,
Or nevermore, my true love see?
Then she took out a silver dagger,
She pierced it through her tender breast,
These words she spoke just as she staggered,
Farewell sweetheart, I'm going to rest.
Her sweetheart lying just in a thicket,
Not that his lover was near,
He ran, he ran, like one distracted,
Crying, have I quite lost my dear?
Where are you going, my own dear fair one,
Where are you going with all your charms,
Is there no gold, no friend can save you,
While you lie fainting in my arms?
Just then her sloe-black eyes she opened.
She said, my darling, you've come too late,
Prepare to meet me in old Zion,
There our love can be complete.
Then he picked up the bloody dagger,
He pierced it through his throbbing heart,
Said, let this be a dreadful warning,
To all true lovers never part.
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