Текст песни Poor Murdered Woman - Dave Swarbrick , Martin Carthy
It
was
Yanky
the
Squire
as
I′ve
heard
them
tell
He
went
out
a-hunting
all
on
one
fine
day
He
went
out
a-hunting
but
nothing
he
found
But
a
poor
murdered
woman
laid
on
the
cold
ground
About
eight
o'clock,
boys,
our
dogs
they
throwed
off
And
off
to
the
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
whipped
their
dogs
off
and
they
kept
them
away
For
I
do
think
it
is
proper
that
she
should
have
fair
play
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,
I
am
sorry
to
say,
She
cannot
be
removed
until
the
next
day."
The
next
Sunday
morning
about
eight
o′clock
Some
hundreds
of
people
to
the
spot
they
did
flock
For
to
see
that
poor
creature
it
would
make
your
hearts
bleed
Some
cold-hearted
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
Sims
The
ner
was
sent
for
and
the
jury
they
joined
And
soon
they
concluded
and
they
settled
their
mind
A
coffin
was
brought
and
in
it
she
was
laid
And
took
to
the
churchyard
in
fair
Leatherhead
No
father,
no
mother,
nor
no
friend
at
all
Came
to
see
the
poor
creature
put
under
the
mould
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