A version titled "The Irish Peddler" is in Josiah H. Combs, Folk-Songs of the Southern United States, edited by D.K. Wilgus (University of Texas Press, 1967, pp. 166-167). "Like murderous Cain" is interesting.

THE IRISH PEDDLER
(Contributed by Jesse Green, Smithsboro, Knott Co., Kentucky)

Just as the sun was rising high,
One day in merry June,
The birds were singing in the trees,
All nature seemed in chune (tune).

The peddler and his wife were traveling along
Upon the lonely way,
A-sharing each other's toils and cares,
They both were old and gray.

These men were hidden by the way,
With hearts like murderous Cain;
Their voices hushed, and their pistols came,
To kill this weary twain.

Just as the wagons came in view,
Shots rang upon their hair;¹
But little did they think, dear friends,
They'd met their fatal hour.

His wife fell out upon the ground
To toise (poise) her dying head;
The men rushed out and took her gold;
Poor lady, she were dead.

The horse rushed on with the dying man,
Till kind friends checked their speed;
Alas! alas, it was too late
To stop this horrible deed.

They both are sleeping in the tomb,
Their souls have gone above,
Where they cannot be disturbed any more;
It's all in peace and love.

¹ Their hair--the air.

~Masato