In London city where I did dwell,
A soldier boy I loved quite well,
He courted me my life away,
But now with me he will not stay.
I wish, I wish, I wish in vain,
I wish I were a maid again,
But a maid again I ne'er shall be,
'Til apples grow on an ivy tree.
I wish my baby it were born,
And smiling on its daddy's knee,
And me for years to be dead and gone,
With the long green grass growing over me.
She went upstairs to go to bed,
And calling on her mother said,
Give me a chair that I might sit down,
And a pen and ink that I might write down.
Her father came and the door he broke,
And found her hanging from a rope,
He took a knife and he cut her down,
And on her breast this note he found.
Oh, dig my grave long wide and deep,
Put a marble stone at my head and feet,
And in the middle a turtle dove,
That the world may know that I died for love.
From the singimg of my brother, a 2nd BTN Scots Guardsman 1950-1959.