Betsy the Serving Maid

Now a farmer's daughter living near
A dreadful story you soon shall hear
All off to London she made her way
For she was bound a serving maid to be
And she went until she come unto
Some squire's hall
And loudly there she did knock and call
"I hear you want a servant," she said
"Well, I am Betsy, the serving maid."
And the squire had one only son
And very soon Betsy's heart he won
And Betsy being both blithe and fair
This poor boy's heart she did ensnare
And so one Sunday evening he took his time
And unto Betsy he told his mind
And he swore by oaths, he swore by stars above
"'Tis you, sweet Betsy, 'tis you I love."
But the old woman hearing him say so
It filled her heart with both grief and woe
"We must contrive to send her away
To be a slave all in Amerikay."
And so on Monday morning this old woman arose
Crying, "Betsy, go gather up your clothes
I am going some friends to see
And only you, Betsy, shall go with me."
And they went until they come unto some seaport town
And ships were sailing all up and down
A ship was hailed and in she went
Poor Betsy sailed it then in discontent
And a few days later this old woman come home
"It's welcome home, mother," cried her son
"Welcome home, mother," on every side
"But where is Betsy, the serving maid?"
"Oh son, oh son, oh son," said she
"Your heart's delight is all on the sea
For I'd rather see my son lying dead
Than see him married to a serving maid."
But a few days later this poor boy fell sick
So very sad, all in bed was he
They could not cure him though all they tried
He called on Betsy and then he died
And when she saw her son lying dead
She wrung her hands and she tore her head
"If I could see my son rise again
I'd send for Betsy across the main."