An Exploration of Traditional & Contemperary Balladry
EdwardWhat makes that blood on the point of your knife?
My son, now tell to me It is the blood of my old grey mare Who plowed the fields for me, me, me Who plowed the fields for me. It is too red for your old grey mare My son, now tell to me It is the blood of my old coon dog Who chased the fox for me, me me Who chased the fox for me. It is too red for your old coon dog My son, now tell to me It is the blood of my brother John Who hoed the corn for me, me, me Who hoed the corn for me. Why did you have a falling out? My son, now tell to me: Because he cut yon holly bush, Which might have been a tree, tree, tree Which might have been a tree. What will you say when your father comes back When he comes home from town? I'll set my foot in yonder boat And sail the ocean round, round, round I'll sail the ocean round. When will you come back, my own dear son? My son, now tell to me When the sun it sets in yonder sycamore tree And that will never be, be, be And that will never be. Comment Form is loading comments...
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