| Jack Orion was as good a fiddler
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| As ever fiddled on a string
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| He could make young women mad
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| To the tune his fiddle would sing
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| He could fiddle the fish out of salt water
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| Or water from a marble stone
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| Or milk from out of a maiden’s breast
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| Though baby she’d got none
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| He’s taken his fiddle into his hand
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| He’s fiddled and he’s sung
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| And oft he’s fiddled unto the King
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| Who never thought it long
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| And he sat fiddling in the castle hall
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| He’s played them all so sound asleep
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| All but for the young princess
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| And for love she stayed awake
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| And first he played at a slow grave tune
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| And then a gay one flew
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| And many’s the sigh and loving word
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| That passed between the two
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| Come to my bower, sweet Jack Orion
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| When all men are at rest
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| As I am a lady true to my word
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| Thou shalt be a welcome guest
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| He’s lapped his fiddle in a cloth of green
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| A glad man, Lord, was he
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| Then he’s run off to his own house
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| Says, Tom come hither unto me
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| When day has dawned and the cocks have crown
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| And flapped their wings so wide
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| I am bidden to that lady’s door
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| To stretch out by her side
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| Lie down in your bed, dear master
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| And sleep as long as you may
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| I’ll keep good watch and awaken you
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| Three hours before 'tis day
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| But the rose up that worthless lad
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| His master’s clothes did don
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| A collar he’s cast about his neck
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| He seemed the gentleman
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| Well he didn’t take that lady gay
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| To bolster nor to bed
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| But down upon the bower floor
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| He quickly had her laid
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| And he neither kissed her when he came
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| Nor when from her he did go
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| And in and out of her window
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| The moon like a coal did glow
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| Ragged are your stockings love
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| Stubbley is your cheek and chin
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| And tangled is that yellow hair
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| That I saw yester' 'een
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| The stockings belong to my boy Tom
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| They’re the first come to my hand
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| The wind is tangled my yellow hair
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| As I rode o’er the land
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| Tom took his fiddle into his hand
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| So saucy there he sang
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| Then he’s off back to his master’s house
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| As fast as he could run
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| Wake up, wake up my good master
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| I fear 'tis almost dawn
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| Wake up, wake up the cock has crowed
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| 'Tis time that you were gone
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| The quickly rose up Jack Orion
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| Put on his cloak and shoon
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| And cast a collar about his neck
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| He was a lord’s true son
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| And when he came to the lady’s bower
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| He lightly rattled the pin
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| The lady was true to her word
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| She rose and let him in
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| Oh whether have you left with me
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| Your bracelet or your glove?
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| Or are you returned back again
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| To know more of my love?
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| Jack Orion swore a bloody oath
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| By oak and ash and bitter thorn
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| Saying, lady I never was in your house
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| Since the day that I was born
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| Oh then it was your young footpage
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| That has so cruelly beguiled me
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| And woe that the blood of the ruffian lad
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| Should spring in my body
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| Then she pulled forth a little sharp knife
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| That hung down at her knee
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| O’er her white feet the red blood ran
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| Or ever a hand could stay
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| And dead she lay on her bower floor
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| At the dawning of the day
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| Jack Orion ran to his own house
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| Saying, Tom my boy come here to me
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| Come hither now and I’ll pay your fee
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| And well paid you shall be
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| If I had killed a man tonight
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| Tom I would tell it thee
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| But if I have taken no life tonight
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| Tom thou hast taken three
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| Then he pulled out his bright brown sword
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| And dried it on his sleeve
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| And he smote off that vile lad’s head
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| And asked for no man’s leave
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| He set the sword’s point to his breast
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| The pommel to a stone
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| Through the falseness of that lying lad
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| These three lives were all gone |