I am the mole catchers daughter
And they should have buried me deep.
In a dream my step mother
To meet me she came.
My ghost to her chamber
Rose and followed to tell
Of my squire who cut and beat me
Into my unholy grave.
As a lad I dressed to be away
In secret to ride with him.
'Tis true I shared my honey sometimes
My stroke it played him my pet
For a promise
To make me a lady.
But once in the barn
Rough hands and words tore upon me
My blood fell to bloom in the clay
My handkerchief of primrose lawn
It broke my breath from my soul.
Only beasts were witness
And eight hooded rooks upon the roof
Were the judge of William Corder.
In the May sun set
Aflood with red is the barn.
My body lay bent against bone
'Till my father he found me
A lovely in gore.
And they should have buried me deep
For my tale lives long
'Cross the land.