Little Sir Hugh - Alasdair Roberts

The rain comes down in merry Lincoln

So does it down the Pa

So does the lads of merry Lincoln

when they play at the ball

And up and spoke the Jew’s daughter

'Oh, will you come in and dine?'

'I can’t come in, I won’t come in

Without my playfairs nine'

She’s pulled an apple green and red

To lure the young thing in

She’s pulled an apple red and green

And that the sweet bairn did win

She’s taken out her wee penknife

Hung low down by her gore

She’s twined the young thing of his life

And word he never spoke more

And out and come thick, thick blood

And out and come the thin

And out and come the bonny heart’s blood

there was no life left in

When bells were run and mass was sung

Went every lady home

And every lady had her young son

But lady Helen she had none

She wrapped her mantle her about

And sore began to weep

And she’s run up to the Jew’s draw well

Was fifty fathoms deep

'My bonny Hugh, my dear Sir Hugh

I pray you to me speak'

'Oh lady, run to the deep draw well

If you you only son would seek'

So she’s run up to the deep draw well

And knelt down on her knee

'My bonny Hugh, my dear Sir Hugh

I pray you speak to me'

'The lead is wondrous heavy mother

The well is wondrous deep

A keen penknife sticks in my heart

And a word I dare not speak

'Go home, go home my mother dear

And fetch my winding sheet

And at the back of merry Lincoln

It’s there we two shall meet

'Go home, go home my mother dear

And fetch my winding sheet

And bury me in the sepulchre

With the Bible at my feet'