Matty Groves

A holiday

A holiday

And the first one of the year

Lord DArlen's wife came into the church

The gospel for to hear

And when the meeting it was done

She cast her eyes about

And there she saw little Matty Groves

Walking in the crowd

Come home with me

Little Matty Groves

Come home with me tonight

Come home with me

Little Matty Groves

And sleep with me till light

Oh

I can't come home

I won't come home and sleep with you tonight

By the rings on your fingers I can tell you are my master's wife

But if I am Lord Arlen 's wife

Lord Arlen's not at home

He is out in the far cornfields bringing the yearlings home

And a servant who was standing by and hearing what was said

He swore Lord Arlen he would know before the sun would set

And in his hurry to carry the news

He bent his breast and ran

And when he came to the broad millstream

He took off his shoes and he swam

Little Matty Groves

He lay down and took a little sleep

When he awoke

Lord Arlen was standing at his feet

Saying How do you like my feather bed and how do you like my sheets

How do you like my lady who lies in your arms asleep

Oh

Well I like your feather bed and well I like your sheets

But better I like your lady gay who lies in my arms asleep

Well

Get up

Get up Lord Arlen cried

Get up as quick as you can

It'll never be said in fair England that I slew a naked man

Oh

I can't get up

I won't get up

I can't get up for my life

For you have two long beaten swords and I not a pocket knife

Well it's true I have two beaten swords and they cost me deep in the purse

But you will have the better of them and I will have the worse

And you will strike the very first blow and strike it like a man

I will strike the very next blow and I'll kill you if I can

So Matty struck the very first blow and he hurt Lord Arlen sore

Lord Arlen struck the very next blow and Matty struck no more

And then Lord Arlen took his wife and he sat her on his knee

Saying Who do you like the best of us

Matty Groves or me

And then up spoke his own dear wife

Never heard to speak so free

I'd rather a kiss from dead Matty's lips than you or your finery

Lord Arlen he jumped up and loudly he did bawl

He struck his wife right through the heart and pinned her against the wall

A grave

A grave Lord Arlen cried

To put these lovers in

But bury my lady at the top for she was of noble kin