Young Girl Cut Down in Her Prime

As I was a-walking one midsummer's morning
As I was a-walking along the highway
When who should I see but my own dearest daughter
With her head wrapped in flannel on a hot summer's day

“Oh mother, dear mother, come sit you down by me
Come sit you down by me and pity my case
For my poor head is aching, my poor heart is breaking
And I'm in low spirits and surely must die

“Oh mother, dear mother, come send for the clergyman
And send for the doctor to heal up my wound
And likewise my young man whose heart it did wander
So that he may see me bеfore I'm put down

“And when I am dead to thе churchyard they'll bear me
There's six jolly fellows to carry me on
And in each of their hands a bunch of green laurel
So they may not smell me as they march along”

So rattle your drum and play your fife over me
And sing the dead march as we walk all along
Then return to your homes and think of that young girl
“Oh, there goes a young girl cut down in her prime”