Down in yon willow garden where me and my love did meet,
It was there we sat a-courting when my love fell off to sleep,
Well I had a bottle of burgundy wine, my love she did not know,
It was there I murdered that poor little girl, down on the banks below.

Well I drove my saber through her it was a bloody knife,
I threw her into the river it was a dreadful sight,
For my father often had told me that money would set me free,
If I would murder that poor little girl who’s name was Rose Connolly.

Now my father sits at his cabin door wiping his tear-dimmed eyes,
For his only son soon shall walk to yonder scaffold high,
For my race is run beneath the sun, the devil is waiting for me,
For I did murder that poor little girl who’s name was Rose Connolly.

And now its time to leave you all its time to say my goodbye,
For they are going to stretch me up between the earth and sky.