Cat. #0575 (MFH #364) - As sung by Mrs. Virginia Morris, Springfield, Missouri on August 6, 1962
VERSE 1
How do you like your bed, said she
It's how do you like your sheet
How do you like th pretty fair maid
How do you like th pretty fair maid
That lies in your arms, so sweet
VERSE 2
Very well do I like my bed, said he
It's how do you like your sheet
But th best of all is th pretty fair maid
That stands at my bedside feet
(Th next day she went home and died for him)
Throw back, throw back, those curtains, said she
(No, he went th next day to see 'er)
VERSE 3
Is she in her pitching room
Or is she in her hall
She's neither in her pitchin' room
She's neither in her hall
She's lying in her own chamber
With her corpse against th wall
VERSE 4
Throw back, throw back those curtains, he said
All made of linen, so fine
That I may kiss those cold clay lips
That of't time have kissed mine
Lady Mag died for me today
An' I'll die for her tomorrow
VERSE 5
They buried them side by side
In th old church yard
And out'a her grave
There sprang a red rose
An' out'a his a brier
VERSE 6
They grew and they grew
To th church steeple top
Till they could not grow any higher
They lenght an' they tied
In a lovers knot
Th rose around th brier