In Moore Street where I did dwell,
A butcher boy I loved right well.
He courted me my life away,
And now with me he will not stay.

I wish my baby he were born
And smilin' on his daddy's knee,
And my puir body to be dead and gone
And the long green grass growin' over me.

I wish, I wish, I wish in vain.
I wish I was a maid again,
But a maid again I ne'er can be
Till apples grow on an orange tree.
(Till cherries grow on an ivy tree) <-- alternate

He went upstairs and the door he broke.
He found her hanging on a rope.
He took a knife and he cut her down,
And in her pocket these words he found:

"O Dig my grave large wide and deep.
Put a marble stone at my head and feet,
And in the middle put a turtle dove,
That the world may know I died for love."

HTML line breaks added. --JoeClone, 3-Jul-02.