Down in the willow garden
Down in thr willow garden where me and my love did meet There we sat a-courting my love feel off to sleep I had a bottle of burgundy wine which my true love did not know And there I poisoned that dear little gir down on the bank below I drew my saber through her which was a bloody knife I threw her in the river which was an awful sight My father often told me that money would set me free If I would murder that dear little girl whose name was Rose Connelly Now he sits in his cabin door wiping his tear-dimmed eyes Mourning for his only son out on the scaffold high My race is run benearth the sun the devil is waiting for me For I did murder that dear little girl whose nane was Rose Connelly