Claud Allen and his dear old father
Have met their fatal doom at last.
Their friends are glad their troubles are over
And hope their souls are now at rest.
Claud's mother's tears will gently flow
For the loss of the ones she loves so dear.
It seems that none can tell her troubles;
It seems no one can tell but her.
Claud Allen had a pretty sweetheart
To mourn the loss of the one she ioved.
She hopes to meet beyond the river
A fair young face in heaven above.
Claud was young and very handsome
And still had hopes until the last
That he might in some way or other
Escape his death at the Richmond Pen.
The governor being so hard hearted
And not caring what his friends might say
That he finally took his sweet life from him
And they laid his body in the clay.
High up on yonders lonely mountain
Claud Allen sleeps beneath the clay.
No more we'll hear his words for mercg,
Nor see his face till Judgment Day.
Come, all young men, you may take warning:
Be careful how you go astray;
Or you might be like poor Claud Allen
And have that awful debt to pay.
From Folk Songs of the Southern Highlands,
Collected from Miss Dicie McLean, NC