Traditional It was Yankee the squire As Ive heard the men say Who rode out a huntin on one Saturday They hunted all day but nothing they found But a poor murdered woman Laid on the cold ground About eight oclock boys the dogs They throwed off On Leatherhead Common And that was the spot They tried all the bushes but nothing they found But a poor murdered woman Laid on the cold ground They mounted their horses And they rode off the ground They rode to the village And alarmed it all around It is late in the evening Im sorry to say She cannot be removed until the next day The next Sunday morning about eight oclock Some hundreds of people To the spot they did flock For to see the poor creature Your hearts would have bled Some coldhearted violence Came into their heads She was took off the common And down to some inn And the man that has kept it His name is John Simms The coroner was sent for, the jury they pined And soon they concluded and settled their mind Her coffin was brought, in it she was laid And took to the churchyard This cold winter day No father, no mother, no long friend untold Came to see the poor creature Laid under the cold So now Ill conclude and Ill finish my song And those that have damage Shall find themselves wrong The last day of Judgement The trumpet shall sound And their souls not in heaven Im afraid wont be found
laid, rode, poor, murdered, cold