The Life and Death of
George of OXFORD:
To a pleasant New Tune, called, Poor Georgy.
|
AS I went over London Bridge
|
all in a misty morning,
|
There did I see one weep and mourn,
|
lamenting for her Georgy,
|
His time it is past,
|
His life it will not last,
|
Alack and alas! there is no Remedy,
|
Which makes the heart within me
|
Ready to burst in three
|
To think on the death of poor Georgy
|
George of Oxford is my name,
|
and few there's but have known me,
|
Many a mad prank have I plaid,
|
but now they've overthrown me.
|
My time it is past, etc.
|
Oh! then bespake the Lady Gray,
|
i'le haste me in the morning,
|
And to the Judge i'le make my way,
|
to save the life of Georgy.
|
His time it is past,
|
His life else it may cost,
|
Alack and alas! is there no remedy?
|
It makes the heart within me
|
Ready to burst in three
|
To think on the death of poor Georgy.
|
Go Saddle me my milk-white Steed,
|
go Saddle me my bonny,
|
That I may to New-Castle speed,
|
to save the life of Georgy.
|
His time it is past, etc,
|
But when she came the Judge before
|
full low her knee she bended,
|
For Georgys life she did implore,
|
that she might be befriended.
|
His time may be past,
|
His life else it may cost,
|
Alack and alas! is there no Remedy?
|
It makes the heart within me
|
Ready to burst in three
|
To think on the death of poor Georgy.
|
Oh rise, oh rise, fair Lady Gray,
|
your suit cannot be granted,
|
Content your self, as well you may,
|
for Georgy must be hanged.
|
His time it is past etc.
|
She wept she waild she rung her hands
|
and ceased not her mourning;
|
She offer'd Gold she offer'd Lands,
|
to save the life of Georgy.
|
His time it is past, etc.
|
I Have travell'd through the Land,
|
and met with many a man, Sir;
|
But Knight or Lord I bid him stand
|
he durst not make an answer.
|
But my thread it is spun,
|
My glass is almost run,
|
Alack and alas! there is no remedy;
|
Which makes my heart within me
|
Ready to burst in three,
|
To die like a Dog, (says poor Georgy.)
|
The Brittain bold that durst deny
|
his money for to tender,
|
Tho' he were stout as valiant Guy
|
I forc'd him to surrender.
|
But now my thread is spun, etc.
|
But when the money I had got,
|
and made him cry pectavi,
|
To bear his charge and pay his shot
|
a Mark or Noble gave I.
|
But my thread it is spun, etc.
|
The Ladies when they had me seen
|
would ne'r have been affrighted
|
To take a dance upon the Green
|
with Georgy they delighted.
|
But now my thread is spun, etc.
|
When I had ended this our wake,
|
and fairly them bespoken,
|
Their rings and jewells would I take
|
to keep them for a Token.
|
But now my thread is spun, etc.
|
The hue and cry for George is set,
|
a proper handsome fellow,
|
With Diamond-Eyes as black as jet,
|
and Locks like Gold so yellow.
|
His time it is past, etc.
|
Long it was with all their art,
|
e're they could apprehend him,
|
But at the last his valiant heart
|
no longer could defend him.
|
His time it was past, etc.
|
I ne'r stole Horse nor Mare in my life
|
nor Cloven-foot or any,
|
But once sir of the Kings white steeds
|
and I sold them to Bohemia.
|
His time it was past, etc.
|
Georgy he went up the hill,
|
and after followed many,
|
Georgy was hanged in silken string,
|
the like was never any.
|
His time it was past,
|
His life will not last,
|
Alack and alas! there is no remedy, etc.
|
|
|
|
|
|