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作词 : Traditional |
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“If you'll meet me at the Red Barn |
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As sure as I have life |
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I will take you to Ipswich Town |
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And there make you my wife.” |
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He straight went home and fetched his gun, |
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His pick-axe and his spade. |
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He went unto the Red Barn |
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And there he dug her grave. |
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Come all you thoughtless young men, |
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A warning take by me |
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To think on my unhappy fate |
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To be hanged upon a tree. |
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My name is William Corder, |
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To you I do declare |
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I courted Maria Marten, |
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Most beautiful and fair. |
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I promised I would marry her |
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Upon a certain day; |
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Instead of that I was resolved |
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To take her life away. |
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I went unto her father's house |
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The eighteenth day of May |
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And said, “My dear Maria, |
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We will fix a wedding day.” |
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With her heart so light she thought no harm |
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To meet me she did go. |
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I murdered her all in the barn |
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And laid her body low. |
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After the horrid deed was done |
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She laid there in her gore |
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Her bleeding, mangled body lay |
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Beneath the Red Barn floor. |
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Now all things being silent |
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Her spirit could not rest. |
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She appeared unto her mother |
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Who'd suckled her at her breast. |
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For many a long month or more |
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Her mind being sore oppressed, |
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Neither at night nor yet by day |
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Could she take any rest. |
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Her mother's mind being so disturbed |
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She dreamed it three nights o'er, |
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Her daughter she lay murdered |
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Beneath the Red Barn floor. |
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She sent the father to the Barn |
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Where he the ground did thrust |
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And there he found his daughter |
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Lay mingling with the dust |
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My trial was hard, I could not stand, |
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Most woeful was the sight |
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When her dear bones was brought to prove |
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Which pierced my heart quite. |
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Her aged father standing by, |
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Likewise his loving wife, |
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And in her grief her hair she tore |
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She scarcely could keep life. |
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Adieu adieu, my loving friends, |
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My glass is almost run. |
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On Monday next will be my last |
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When I am to be hung. |
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So all young men who do pass by |
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With pity look on me |
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For murdering of that young girl |
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I was hung upon a tree. |
