English Folk Songs from the Southern Appalachians

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	Young Hunting 8 I wish you had your bow and arrow, Your arrow and your string ; I'd fly away to the heavens so high, Where I could for evermore sing.
	B

	2 It's I ain't coming in, nor I can't come in To stay all night with thee, For I have a wife in old Scotland And this night she weeps over me. 3 It's out she drew her little penknife And stabbed him through his heart. She cried out with a very loud cry: There's a dead man in my house. 4 It's she picked him up by the middle so small, She picked him up by his feet, She plunged him over in a deep, wide well Just about eighteen feet, feet, Just about eighteen feet. 5 And as she was sitting in her parlour door Thinking of what she had done, She saw a bird and a very pretty bird All among the leaves so green, green. 48