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A lurking street urchin by the day, |
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Whose conning ways offer a lowly wage |
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So when night falls to the church I turn, to see what treasures I can earn |
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I take my shovel and I take my sack, to see what I can bring me back |
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I rob gold & silver & amber & pearls from your dear beloveds that have left this world |
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I see your face - and then it's gone without trace |
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I feel I'm losing my sight - haunting life day and night |
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Raven red hair - I have to stop here and stare |
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Your piercing eyes black and cold - the devil's broken the mould |
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My lamplight casts upon the grave, of magaret erskine |
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A disease ridden dame |
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Friday night she died and was buried in the morn |
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Enriched in jewels, wrapped in fine coths |
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From the earth she comes again |
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Punishing the sins of all men |
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Taking life like taking breath |
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A tortured soul lives on in death |
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I see your face - and then it's gone without trace |
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I feel I'm losing my sight - haunting life day and night |
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Raven red hair - I have to stop here and stare |
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Your piercing eyes black and cold - the devil's broken the mould |
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I want that ring I must not linger |
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I can get it off the dead wenchs finger |
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I need to take it to the nearest inn |
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And swap it for a pint of gin |
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A very grave business, no man should witness |
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She walked in the bar all pale and white, it gave me such a massive fright |
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She looked all dead and did quite stink it almost made me drop my drink |
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Excuse me sir but that's my ring, and now my hand it don't half sting |
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So the moral now the story's read, don't steal bling from off the dead |