George Collins
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Lyrics
George Collins walked out one May morning
When May was all in bloom
'Twas there he beheld a pretty fair maid
She was washing her white marble stone
She whooped, she hollered, she high'd her voice
She raised up her lily white hand
"Come hither to me, George Collins," quoth she
"For thy life shall not last you long"
He took her by the milk white hand
Likewise by the grass green sleeve
He's laid her down upon the bank
And never has asked her leave
George Collins cried out, "Oh hoed and alas
So sore is this pain in my head"
Merrily laughed the mermaiden
"Oh ever 'til you be dead"
George Collins took out his little penknife
So sharp for to draw her blood
But she's become a fish again
And sprang into the flood
George Collins rode home to his father's own gate
And loudly he did ring
George Collins rode home to his father's own gate
For the help of his kith and kin
"Arise, dear father, and let me in
'Rise, dear mother, and make my bed
Arise, my dear sister, and get me a napkin
A napkin to bind 'round my head
"For if I chance to die this night
As I fear in my heart I will
Go bury me under that marble stone
At the foot of fair Helen's hill"
Fair Helen doth sit in her room so fine
A-sewing a silver skein
When she sees the fairest corpse a-coming
That ever the sun shined on
She called unto her Irish maid
"Whose corpse is this so fine?"
"They say it's George Collins' corpse a-coming
That was once a true lover of thine
"Now you go upstairs and fetch me the sheet
What's wove with the silver twine
Go hang it over George Collins' head
To-morrow it shall hang over mine"
The news went 'round through fair London town
Was wrote all on fair London's gate
"Six pretty maids died all of one night
And all for George Collins' fate"