Edward

For the killing of three little dicky birds, that flew from tree to tree.
What will you do with your houses and your land? O my boy, come now tell it
unto me.
I will let them stand, till they fall down.
For here no more can I be.
What will you leave your dear little sister now? O my boy, come now tell it
unto me.
I will leave her a rope to hang herself on yonder high tree.
What will you do when your father he comes home? O my boy, come now tell it
unto me.
I will place my foot on board of a ship and will sail to a far country.
When will I see your dear, dear dear face again? O my boy, come now tell it
unto me.
Never 'til the sun sets in yonder high tree, and that will never, never be.
And that will never, never be.
And that will never, never be.