Songs That Tell Stories

'Twas in the city of Wexford,
A merchant he did dwell,
He had one only daughter,
And her I did love well.

She was neat, tall, and handsome,
With a dark and a rolling eye;
I promised I would marry her,
And that I can't deny.

'Twas going to her sister's house,
At the hour of eight o'clock,
It was his full intention,
For to meet his heart's delight.

He says, "Come take a walk with me,
For to view those meadows gay,
That we might have a walk and a talk,
And to appoint our wedding day."

They walked along both hand in hand,
Till they came to level ground;
He got a stake all from edge,
And he knocked this fair maid down.

In rising on her bended knee,
Oh for mercy she did say,
"Oh Willie dear, don't murder me,
For I'm not prepared to die."

He took her by the yellow locks
And he dashed her to the ground,
He throwed her into the river
That flows from Wexford town.

"Lay there, lay there, you Wexford girl,
For you thought you would be mine;
I never intended to marry you,
And that I can't deny."

'Twas going home that very same night
At the hour of twelve o'clock;
He woke his aged mother,
Got up all in a shock.

"Oh son, dear son, what have you done?
For the blood-stains on your clothes."
He silently made answer,
"It's a bleeding from the nose."

He asked her for a candle,
For to light himself to bed,
And all that night the Wexford girl
Come trembling 'round his head.

He twisted, turned, "No peace for you,
No peace for you," said she,
"For the gates of hell are wide open
All naked for to see."

Come all you poor and country lads,
A warning take by me;
Don't never murder your own true love,
Makes no matter who she be.

But if you do, you'll surely rue,
You will find yourself lke me;
You will die a public scandal,
All on the gallows tree.

I remember Box Hill as being donated to the public in 1914