American Ballads and Songs

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I scarce had reached to my fifth year
Before my father and mother dear
Both in their silent graves were laid
By He whom first their beings gave.
I took unto myself a wife.
She'd be living yet, there is no doubt,
If I had not met Miss Hattie Stout.
My wife was lying on the bed
When I approached her and said,
"Dear wife, here is some medicine I have brought,
That I for you this day have bought.
Pray take it, do, it will cure you
Of those vile fits. Pray take it, do."
She gave to me one loving look
And in her mouth the poison took.
Down on her bed low with her babe,
Down to her last long sleep she laid.
I fearing that she was not dead
My hands upon her throat I laid,
And there such deep impression made
That her soul from sorrow quicker fled,
And my heart was filled with woe.
I cried, "0 whither shall I go?
How can I leave this mournful place,
This world again how can I pace?
Had I ten thousand pounds, I'd give To bring her back again to live, To bring her back again to life, My dear, my darling murdered wife."