THE pretty maid she died, she died, in love-bed as she lay; They took her to the churchyard, all at the break of day; They laid her all alone there, all in her white array; They laid her all alone there, a-coffined in the clay; And they came back so merrily, all at the dawn of day; A-singing, all so merrily, "@3The dog must have his day!@1" The pretty maid is dead, is dead, in love-bed as she lay; And they went off a-field to work, as they do every day. |