The Old Oak Tree

Dark was the night cold blew the winds and heavy fell the rain
Young betsy left her own dear home and come not back again
She left her widowed mothers side fearing not rain nor cold
Although being young and fair to roam yet love had made her bold

At half past ten that weary night beneath the old oak tree
She had promised James her own true love and with him she would be
She heeded not the drenching rains nor the howling tempest roar
But threw her cloak around her and quickly left the door

That night passed on and day break came and betsy dident come home
Wich caused her mother for to weep and wonder where she had roamed
Till at lenth this widow started out she cried in accents wild
Ill search this kingdom over or find my darling child

Three long and dreary weeks was spent in searching the country around
But their searching was of no avail young betsy was not found
And men to reach her lonely house this weak worn widow tried
Till pressed by grief she there lay down and broken hearted died

More nearer to the scene of was the owner of the ground
Young squire mccullion rode one day to hunt with all his hounds
He rode up hill he rode down dale through gallant company
Until by chance they lost the fox beneath the old oak tree

I was there the dogs began to bark to howl and snuff the clay
And all the gentlemens whips and horses couldent drive the dogs away
Till at lenth the gentlemen gathered around they yelled for pick and spade      
They dug the ground and there they found this missing mureded maid

Her breast that once was fair and white was black with wounds and blows
And from the cuts the blood did gosh and trinkle through her clothes
The grave to show the murderous work it was a horrid sight
To see the worms set through her eyes that once was blue and bright

And in her breast a knife was plunged more dismal to the sene
And on the helve the gentlemen read young james mccullions name
I done the deed mccullions cried and soul is food for hell
So hide her cold corps from my eyes and I the truth will tell

I rote a marriage promise to which I signed my name
This bein on an evil hove(?) I had ruined poor betsy fame
I own I loved young betsy with all my valiant heart
I had gained her soul victoriously which did implore my part

And every time that we would meet she would say make me your bride
But I laughed at all her tears and woes being hardened in my pride
She teased till I grew tired just as it seems to me
When the devil whispered take her life and then you will be free

The knife that did my dinner cut I plunged into her breast
And with the helve I knocked her down I need not tell the rest
And ever since that mortal hour she stands before my eyes
I think I see her bleeding ghost or hear her dying cries

Then he stooped and on the corps he cast a look of pain
He drew a pistol from his breast and fired it through his brain
He was buried where he fell on no Christian grave found he
And none were found to bless the ground beneath the old oak tree.