The Longford Murderer

Both young and old, I now make bold,
I pray you lend an ear;
It's of as cruel a murder
As ever you did hear.

It's of a pretty female,
Her age was scarce sixteen;
Her beauty bright made me delight,
And Satan made me sin.

This fair maid being a servant girl,
And I a farmer's son,
Her home in County Longford,
Convenient to my own.

I courted her in private,
Till I had her beguiled;
And then to take her tender life
I made this action wild.

'Twas on a Sunday evening,
As you may plainly see,
I sent for her in secret,
And soon she came to me.

I said, "My dearest Annie,
To Longford we will go;
It's there we will get married,
And no one here shall know."

So late that night we both set out
Across the dreary plain;
All on the way I talked full gay,
My action time to gain.

And the tender words she spoke to me
Would bring tears to your eye;
But I said, "We'll go no further,
For it's here that you must die."

"O Jamie, think on all your vows,
And do not me affright;
And do not commit murder
This dark and dismal night.

"I promise here, all on my knees,
If you will spare my life,
I'll never seek to trouble you,
Nor ask to be your wife."

The words she said were all in vain.
I struck her wondrous sore;
With a heavy whip I took her life.
And left her in her gore.

Her flowing blood did stain the ground,
Her moans they pierced my heart:
And thinking I had murdered her.
From her I quick did part.

But being alive next morning,
Just at the break of day,
A shepherd's only daughter
By chance did pass that way.

And seeing her lying in her gore,
She went to her release;
And Annie told her all my guilt,
And she sent for the police.

The cor'ner and the officer,
And the policeman likewise,
They all got information,
And set out in disguise.

They quickly me surrounded,
And put me on my trial;
And I was taken prisoner
And lodged in Longford Jail.

But I lay there with troubled mind
Until my trial day
When the judge in passing sentence,
These words to me did say-—

"For murdering of an orphan girl,
Your countrymen shall see,
On the twenty-fourth of April,
You'll hang on the gallows-tree."

My name is James M'Donald,
From life I soon must part
For the murdering of Annie O'Brien—
It grieves me to the heart.

But I hope the Lord will pardon me;
And, on my dying day,
When I do mount the scaffold,
Good Christians, for me pray.

This is an Irish Folk-song introduced into this country by Irish harvesters at the beginning of the last century.


Source: Ord's Bothy Songs and Ballads (1930), p. 477 ff
(no tune)