Lyrics:
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Fair Lucy sitting in her father's room
Lamenting and a-making her mourn
And in steps her brother James
O what's fair Lucy done?
"It is time for you to weep,
Lamenting and a-making your mourn.
Here's a babe at my right side,
And it is both mine and yourn."
"Hast thou told our mother of this,
And hast thou told of me?
It’s your fine form I cannot resist,
I must spoil your pretty body."
And he’s drawn out his good broadsword
That hung low down by his knee,
And he has cutted off poor Lucy Wan’s head
And her fair body in three.
And outen then come her thick heart’s blood
And outen then come the thin,
And he is away to his mother’s house,
“What ails thee, Geordie Wan?”
“Oh what is that blood on the point of your sword?
My son come tell to me.”
“Oh that is the blood of my greyhound,
He would not run for me.”
“But your greyhound’s blood it was ne’er so red,
My son come tell to me.”
“Oh that is the blood of my grey mare,
She would not ride with me.”
“But your grey mare’s blood it was ne’er so clear,
My son come tell to me.”
“Oh that not the blood of my grey mare
But ’tis the blood of my sister, Lucy.”
O what will you do when your father comes home?
Dear son, come tell to me.
I'll set my foot into some little ship
And I'll sail plumb over the sea.
O what will you do with your house and land?
Dear son, come tell to me.
I'll leave it here, my old, dear mother;
Be kind to my children three.
O what will you do with your pretty, little wife?
Dear son, come tell to me.
She can set her foot in another little ship
And follow after me.
Back home, back home will you return:
Dear son, come tell to me.
When the sun and moon sets in yon hill,
And I hope that'll never be.
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