My mother gave me the song, the Butcher Boy many years ago. My uncle had traced it back to the late 1600's England. This is the version I have.

In London City, where I did dwell,
A butcher boy I loved so well
He courted me my life away
and then with me, he would not stay

There's a house in that same town
Where he goes in and he sits down
He takes his maiden upon his knee
And he tells her things that he once told me

O papa can you tell me why
Is it cause she has more gold than I
Her gold will melt and her silver will fly
and in time of need she'll be poor as I

Must I go down and him go free
Or love a boy that don't love me
Or must I play a childish part
and love a boy that breaks my heart

I went upstairs to make my bed
But nothing to my mother said
My mother came upstairs to me
Saying what is the matter daughter dear

Oh mother mother you do not know
Its grief to me and sorrow, woe
Go get a chair to sit upon
A pen and ink to write it down

With every line she dropped a tear
While calling home her Willie dear
O Willie I beg you to come home
Don't leave me here, I'm all alone


That afternoon when her father came home
He wondered where his daughter had gone
He rushed upstairs and the door he broke
And he found her hanging from a rope

He took his knife and he cut her down
And in her note these words he found
Oh what a foolish maid am I
To kill myself for a butcher boy

So dig my grave both wide and deep
Place a marble stone at my head and feet
And on my breast place a snow white dove
To prove to the world, I died for love