Rose Conneley

VERSE 1
Way down in London's garden
Where me and my love did meet
And there we set 'en courted
Till my love dropped off to sleep

VERSE 2
I had a bottle of th burglars wine
Which my true love did not know
And there, I poisoned my own true love
Down under th bank below

VERSE 3
I drew a saber to her
Which were a bloody knife
I threw her in to th river
Which were a dredfull sight

VERSE 4
My Fathers always taught me
That money could set me free
If I would murder that pretty little miss
Whose name is Rose Conneley

VERSE 5
But now he's settin' his own cottage door
A wipe'n his weep'n eyes
A gaze'n at his own dear son
Up on his scaffold high

VERSE 6
My race I've run berneath th sun
And hells a waitning for me
For I have murdered that pretty little miss
Whose name is Rose Conneley

OTHER COLLECTIONS:
Brown: II-67 Rose Connally