Dave Van Ronk
Dave Van Ronk
Dave Van Ronk
Dave Van Ronk
Dave Van Ronk
Dave Van Ronk
Dave Van Ronk
Dave Van Ronk
Dave Van Ronk
Dave Van Ronk
Dave Van Ronk
Dave Van Ronk
There was a lady, and a lady gay
Of children she had three
She sent them away to the North Country
For to learn their grammarie
They had not been there very long
Scarcely six months and a day
When death, cold death come a-hastening along
And stole those babes away
She prayed to the lord that was in heaven
Who wears a golden crown
Pray, send to me my three little babes
Tonight or in the mornin' soon
It was just about old Christmas time
The nights being cold and clear
She looked and she saw her three little babes
Come running home to her
She set a table both long and wide
On it was bread and wine
Come eat, come drink my three little babes
Come eat, come drink of mine
We want none of your bread mother
Neither do we want your wine
For yonder stands our Saviour dear
To His will we must resign
Green grass grows over our bed, mother
Cold clay's under our feet
And every tear your shed for us
It wets our winding sheet