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Young Alanthia was a good mason as ever laid stone;
He built Laird Arnold's castle, And Laird Arnold paid him none.

He was going to New England to see his son, John
And he asked his loving lady if she dared to bide alone.

Oh yes, I dare to stay here (and to bide here alone)
I'm not afraid of young Alanthia, or none of his kin.

I am not afraid of young Alanthia, or none of his kin.
I will bar up my doors and my windows pin in.

She barred up her doors and her windows pinned in
All but the kitchen window, where the maid let him in.

"Oh spare young Alanthia, oh, spare but an hour
You shall have my daughter Betsey, she's queen of the tower.

Call out your daughter Betsey, she may do you some good,
She may hold the silver basin to catch your heart's blood.

Stay still, Betsey, wherever you may be,
So's to wait on your father when he comes home from sea.

Laird Arnold came home, he opened the gate
There lay his little baby, lying dead at his feet.

He went in the house, he opened the door
There lay his loving lady, lying dead on the floor.

Who's been here he cried, daughter Betsey steps up
Young Alanthia's been here, he killed my mother

Young Alanthia was burned in the fire to fry
And the maid was hung on Billings to die.

From Folk Songs of Old New England
collected from Miss Ada F. Kelley, MA, who learned it in the late 1800s

Child #93
@revenge @murder @deadbaby @death
filename[ ALANTHIA

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