Here's the missing version, my footnotes- don't have all the info --apparently from ninety-year-old James W. Cline (according to Laws born in Ireland) of Denville, New Jersey who used to work in Sullivan County lumber camps.

The last line provides more evidence of the connection of The Wexford form (Irish/English with Butcher Boy (Scottish).

From: New York Folklore Quarterly, V, 95 with 11 stanzas. 1949; Songs from the Hudson Valley

The culprit in the following ballad was on the receiving end of the rope instead of on the giving end.

Town of Waxford

Twas in the town of Waxford,
Where I met my fairy gal.
Her cheeks were red as roses,
And her teeth as white as pearls.

I asked her if she'd walk with me
And be my heart's delight.
The answer that she gave to me
Was, "Oh, that date tonight."

We walked and we walked[1] together
Till we came to a level ground.
He pulled a stake right from that hedge,
And knocked this maiden down.

Upon her bending knee, For mercy she did cry,
"Oh, Willie dear, Oh, Willie dear,
do not kill me here.
I'm not prepared to die."

Not a word he listened to her,
Beat her more and more,
Till all the ground round him
Was in bloody score[2].

"Lie there, lie there, my pretty young maid,
Ye never shall be my bride.
Lie there, lie there, my pretty young maid,
You never shall be my tie[3]."

He picked her up by her golden locks
That over her shoulders lie,
And threw her into that river
That floats to Waxford town.

Her sister swore his life away,
Without any fears or harm.
He was the very fellow
Took her sister out.

Just very six weeks from,
This very day they found
this pretty fair maid floating down,
The river that floats to Waxford Town.

"Come all you pretty fair maidens
And take a warning from me.
Never treat the one you love
In[4] any severity.

For if you do you'll surely
be the same as I,
For high upon the gallows,
The butcher boy must die.

Richie