The Gravedigger's Daughter
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She wore a bright pink stain gown
Indeed, the prettiest, she was in town
Yet no man has ever sought her,
Lo! And behold, the grave digger’s daughter
Encased in a web of gossip and lies
The bonds of suspicion around her ties
How the riches her father had bought her
Could truly belong to the grave digger’s daughter
Alone they lived in the cottage out yonder
Alone out there to murder and ponder
These were the gossips that had caught her
Into the tales of the gravedigger’s daughter
How could a poor old little gravedigger?
Afford the ruby ring that sat on her finger?
What else than cold-hearted slaughter,
Could possibly be the truth of the gravedigger’s daughter?
She died quite young, the poor soul
Alone and sad, pure and whole
Their gossip and stories is truly what killed her
Mourn and be sorrowful, for the gravedigger’s daughter
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