Factory Maid, and the Clove-Hitch Knot
^^ No author cited, 19th C. song sheet
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1
OH! list the sad tale of the poor factory maid,
How cheerful she went when the day's work was over,
In cloak and in bonnet all simply arrayed,
To meet a dark fiend in the shape of a lover.
How gladsome and gay she tripped on her way,
But alas! on her path the foul murderer lay.

Chorus:
Oh! weep for Maria, the poor factory maid,
So charming, so fair, and so basely betrayed.

2
Her cheek had been pale, but it sweetly assumed
The hue of the rose as she left the Fall River;
She knew not that soon on the cheek where it bloomed,
The beauty would fade and be blasted forever.
Ah, soon came that hour her beauty's fair flower
Lay bloomless and dead in her false lover's bower.
3
Her brow it grew damp on her way, as she strayed,
Her bosom beat high, and a cold chill came o'er her;
For still the sad scene where a villain betrayed,
By memory and fancy was painted before her.
Now dark her lone way, for sunk was the day,
And ne'er shall Maria behold its bright ray.
4
The spot had been named, she reached at the hour,
But still her fair bosom was fearfully beating;
She tried to return, but she had not the power:
She wished to remain, but she dreaded the meeting.
She felt all that fear, so gloomy, so drear,
That so strangely foretells when some dark fate is near.
5
Her lover? ah, no! her deceiver drew nigh,
Her fears flew away, for the false one came smiling;
How sightless in love is fair woman's bright eye,
She saw not that round her a serpent was coiling.
How false is that art, can win a woman's heart,
Then pierce her fair bosom with murder's foul dart.
6
Those hands that in her's had been tenderly laid,
Like paws of the tiger, now fiercely did clutch her;
Those hands he had raised o'er the vows that he had made,
Now wallowed in blood, they were those of her butcher.
Thou demon, go prowl where kindred fiends howl,
All mankind dispise thee, thou monster foul.
7
Oh, sweet was that flower by the false villain torn,
On death's wintry blast he has scattered its blossom;
But, wretch! he will find the fair flower left a thorn,
Shall rankle for aye in his cold heartless bosom.
Not the broad rolling main, nor all heaven's rain,
Can wash his vile hands from the murder's foul stain.

His grave shall be shunn'd, if 'tis known where he's laid,
The false one that slew the fair factory maid.

The Clove-Hitch Knot.
Composed on the death of SARAH M. CORNELL, who was murdered near Fall River, R. I.

American Memory; America Singing: Nineteenth-Century Song Sheets.