| Lyrics: | A holiday, a holiday, and the first one of the year
Lord Donald's wife came into the church,
the gospel for to hear
And when the meeting it was done, she cast her eyes about
And there
she saw little Matty Groves, walking in the crowd
"Come home with me, little Matty Groves, come
home with me tonight
Come home with me, little Matty Groves, and sleep with me till
light"
"Oh, I can't come home, I won't come home and sleep with you tonight
By the rings
on your fingers I can tell you are my master's wife"
"But if I am Lord Donald's wife, Lord
Donald's not at home
He is out in the far cornfields bringing the yearlings
home"
And a servant who was standing by and hearing what was said
He swore Lord
Donald he would know before the sun would set
And in his hurry to carry the news, he bent his
breast and ran
And when he came to the broad millstream, he took off his shoes and he
swam
Little Matty Groves, he lay down and took a little sleep
When he awoke, Lord
Donald was standing at his feet
Saying "How do you like my feather bed and how do you like my
sheets
How do you like my lady who lies in your arms asleep?"
"Oh, well I like your
feather bed and well I like your sheets
But better I like your lady gay who lies in my arms
asleep"
"Well, get up, get up," Lord Donald cried, "get up as quick as you can
It'll never
be said in fair England that I slew a naked man"
"Oh, I can't get up, I won't get up, I can't
get up for my life
For you have two long beaten swords and I not a pocket knife"
"Well
it's true I have two beaten swords and they cost me deep in the purse
But you will have the
better of them and I will have the worse
And you will strike the very first blow and strike it
like a man
I will strike the very next blow and I'll kill you if I can"
So Matty
struck the very first blow and he hurt Lord Donald sore
Lord Donald struck the very next blow
and Matty struck no more
And then Lord Donald took his wife and he sat her on his
knee
Saying "Who do you like the best of us, Matty Groves or me?"
And then up spoke his
own dear wife, never heard to speak so free
"I'd rather a kiss from dead Matty's lips than you
or your finery"
Lord Donald he jumped up and loudly he did bawl
He struck his wife
right through the heart and pinned her against the wall
"A grave, a grave," Lord Donald cried,
"to put these lovers in
But bury my lady at the top for she was of noble kin |
