Since we discussed the "Molly Baun Lavery" title, I'm putting the Australian/Irish version Bob Bolton posted here so it's not lost :) Here are Bob's notes:
"This is the song as sung by Sally Sloane, born Parkes, NSW, Australia, 1894, to collector John Meredith in the 1950s. Meredith notes that it is essentially the same as ballad #29 in Irish Street Ballads; 'Young Molly Bán'. Why it is called 'Molly Baun Lavery' and not just 'Molly Baun' I do not know. Sally has passed on and I can't ask her, but I shall ask John Meredith when next I see him.
Much of Sally's repertoire was passed down from her Irish grandmother, Sarah Alexander, who came out from County Kerry, Ireland in 1838, aged 22 years."
MOLLY BAUN LAVERY (As sung by Sally Sloane) Australian version
Come all you young fellows that follows a gun, Beware of going a-shooting by the late setting sun. It might happen to anyone, as it happened to me, To shoot your own true love in under a tree.
She was going to her uncle, when the shower it came on, She went under a bush, the rain for to shun. With her apron all around her, I took her for a swan, And I levelled my gun and I shot Molly Baun.
I ran to her uncle in haste and great fear, Saying, "Uncle, dear uncle, I've shot Molly dear. With her apron all around her, I took her for a swan, Bur oh, alas, it was my own Molly Baun.
'I shot my own true love, alas, I'm undone, While she was in the shade by the setting of the sun. If I thought she was there, I'd caress her tenderly, And soon I'd get married to my own Molly dear.'
My curse on you Toby, that lent me your gun, To go out a-shooting by the late setting sun. I rubbed her fair temples, and found she was dead, A fountain of tears, for my Molly I shed.
Up came her aged father, and his locks they were grey, Stay here in your own country, and don't run away. Stay here in your own country 'til your trial it comes on, And I'll see that you're set free by the laws of the land.'
All the maids in this country they all will be glad When they hear of the sad news that my Molly is dead. Take them all in their hundreds, set them all in a row, Molly Baun she'll shine like a mountain of snow.