| A holiday, a holiday, and the first one of the year
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| Lord Arlen’s wife came into the church, the gospel for to hear
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| And when the meeting it was done, she cast her eyes about
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| And there she saw little Matty Groves, walking in the crowd
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| «Come home with me, little Matty Groves, come home with me tonight
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| Come home with me, little Matty Groves, and sleep with me till light»
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| «Oh, I can’t come home, I won’t come home and sleep with you tonight
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| By the rings on your fingers I can tell you are my master’s wife»
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| «But if I am Lord Arlen 's wife, Lord Arlen’s not at home
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| He is out in the far cornfields bringing the yearlings home»
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| And a servant who was standing by and hearing what was said
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| He swore Lord Arlen he would know before the sun would set
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| And in his hurry to carry the news, he bent his breast and ran
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| And when he came to the broad millstream, he took off his shoes and he swam
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| Little Matty Groves, he lay down and took a little sleep
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| When he awoke, Lord Arlen was standing at his feet
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| Saying «How do you like my feather bed and how do you like my sheets
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| How do you like my lady who lies in your arms asleep?»
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| «Oh, well I like your feather bed and well I like your sheets
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| But better I like your lady gay who lies in my arms asleep»
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| «Well, get up, get up,» Lord Arlen cried, «get up as quick as you can
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| It’ll never be said in fair England that I slew a naked man»
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| «Oh, I can’t get up, I won’t get up, I can’t get up for my life
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| For you have two long beaten swords and I not a pocket knife»
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| «Well it’s true I have two beaten swords and they cost me deep in the purse
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| But you will have the better of them and I will have the worse
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| And you will strike the very first blow and strike it like a man
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| I will strike the very next blow and I’ll kill you if I can»
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| So Matty struck the very first blow and he hurt Lord Arlen sore
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| Lord Arlen struck the very next blow and Matty struck no more
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| And then Lord Arlen took his wife and he sat her on his knee
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| Saying «Who do you like the best of us, Matty Groves or me?»
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| And then up spoke his own dear wife, never heard to speak so free
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| «I'd rather a kiss from dead Matty’s lips than you or your finery»
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| Lord Arlen he jumped up and loudly he did bawl
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| He struck his wife right through the heart and pinned her against the wall
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| «A grave, a grave,» Lord Arlen cried, «to put these lovers in
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| But bury my lady at the top for she was of noble kin» |