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• Artiste: Alasdair Roberts
• Titre: Little Sir Hugh
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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'