Little Musgrave

(Trad. arr. A. Marshall)

As it fell out upon a day
Like many in the year
Little Musgrave to the church did go
To see fair ladies there

And when the sermon it was done
He cast his eyes about
And there he saw Lord Barnard's wife
Walking in the crowd

She cast her eye on little Musgrave
As bright as the summer sun
And to himself thought little Musgrave
This lady's heart I've won

Come home with me little Musgrave
And stay the night with me
Oh no, you are my master's wife
I dare not sleep with thee

Well if I am Lord Barnard's wife
Lord Barnard's not at home
He is to the hunting gone
And left me all alone

You nothing have to fear, Musgrave
You nothing have to fear
We'll set a page outside the door
To watch till morning clear

But it's woe be to the little foot-page
And an ill death may he die
For he's run to Lord Barnard
As fast as he could fly

Saying rise up, rise up Lord Barnard
Rise up and come with me
Your wife's in bed with little Musgrave
Come home right speedily

If this be true Lord Barnard said
Then gold shall be your fee
But if this be false you tell to me
Then hanged you shall be

I think I hear the morning cock
I think I hear the jay
I think I hear Lord Barnard's horn
Away, Musgrave, away

Lie still, lie still, little Musgrave
And keep my back from the cold
It's nothing but a shepherd's horn
Calling his sheep to the fold

Is not your hawk upon its perch?
Your horse eats oats and hay
And you a fair lady in your arms
And yet you would away

So little Musgrave he lay down
And he fell fast asleep
When he awoke Lord Barnard's men
Were standing at his feet

And it's how do you like my bed, Musgrave?
And how do you like my sheets?
And how do you like my lady gay
That lies in your arms asleep?

Oh it's well I like your bed he says
And well I like your sheets
But better I like your lady gay
That lies in my arms and sleeps

Get up, get up, Lord Barnard cried
Get up as quick as you can
In England it will never be said
I slew a naked man

So slowly slowly he got up
And slowly he put on
And slowly down the stairs he went
Thinking to be slain

And the very first blow Musgrave struck
It hurt Lord Barnard sore
But Barnard struck the very next blow
And Musgrave struck no more

So how do you like his cheeks, lady?
And how do you like his chin?
And how do you like your little Musgrave
Now there's no life within?

Oh it's very well I like his cheeks
And better I like his chin
And better I like my dead Musgrave
Than all your kith and kin

And then Lord Barnard took his sword
And loudly he did bawl
He struck his wife right through the heart
And pinned her against the wall

As it fell out upon a day
Like many in the year
Little Musgrave to the church did go
To see fair ladies there