From the Penguin Book Of English Folk Songs, Ed Pellow's rendition of the tune of Mother, Mother, Make My Bed can be found here.
MOTHER, MOTHER, MAKE MY BED
'Mother, mother, make my bed,
And wrap me in a milk-white sheet,
And wrap me in a cloak of gold,
And see whether I can sleep.
'And send me the two bailies,
Likewise my sister's son,
That they may fetch me my own true love,
Or I shall die before ever he can come.'
The first three miles they walked,
The next three miles they ran,
Until they came to the high water side,
And laid on their breast and swam.
They swam till they came to the high castle
Where my lord he was sitting at meat:
'If you did but know what news I brought,
Not one mouthful more would you eat.'
'What news, what news have you brought me?
Is my castle burnt down?'
'Oh no, your true love is very, very ill,
And she'll die before ever you can come.'
'Saddle me my milk-white horse,
And bridle him so neat,
That I may kiss of her lily lips
That are to me so sweet.'
They saddled him his milk-white steed
At twelve o'clock at night.
He rode, he rode till he met six young men
With a corpse all dressed in white.
'Come set her down, come set her down,
Come set her down by me,
That I may kiss of her lily, lily lips,
Before she is taken away.'
My lady, she died on the Saturday night
Before the sun went down.
My lord he died on the Sunday following
Before evening prayers began.
My lady she was buried in the high castle
My lord was buried in the choir;
Out of my lady grew a red rose,
And out of my lord a sweet briar.
This rose and the briar they grew up together,
Till they could grow no higher,
They met at the top in a true lover's knot,
And the rose it clung round the sweet briar.
Sung by Mrs Ford, Blackham, Sussex (A.G.G. 1906)
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