In a beautiful village a damsel did dwell
Alone with her parents, she lived all serene
Her age it was red, and her hair was nineteen.
| Spoken: Yes, she was a generous girl, she supported plain needlework by taking in her poor old father. |
Chorus: A sweet rustic damsel with cheeks like the rose
A Roman shaped eye, and a cast in her nose.
Now she had a lover who close by did dwell
A bandy backed rustic and humped legged as well
Said he, 'Fly with me by the light of yon star
For… you are the eye of my apple you are.
| Spoken: He was poor but he was honest, and many an honest coat beats beneath a ragged heart, and he loved |
Chorus: A sweet rustic damsel with cheeks like the rose
A Roman shaped eye, and a cast in her nose.
But this dutiful maiden said gently, 'Be wise
My Father would scratch out my nails with his eyes
If you love me you will not bring me to disgrace'
Sobbed the maid as she buried her hands in her face.
| Spoken: It was an affecting scene, and the light of a cloud suddenly bursting forth from behind the moon fully revealed the attitude of |
Chorus: A sweet rustic damsel with cheeks like the rose
A Roman shaped eye, and a cast in her nose.
So as she refused him he knocked down the maid
Then silently opened the knife of his blade
He next cut the throat of this damsel so fair
Then dragged her along by the head of her hair.
| Spoken: It was all her own hair, she never descended to false chignons but she was dead now. Yes, her throat was cut from mouth to mouth and the water rushed forth from the wound like blood. |
Chorus: A sweet rustic damsel with cheeks like the rose
A Roman shaped eye, and a cast in her nose.
Just then her old father came up it appears
And looked at this sad sight with eyes in his tears
He knelt by her side and her sweet face he kissed
Then rushed with his nose at the murderer's fist.
| Spoken: Poor old man! He had put his head on his hat and come out in search of his absent daughter and had just stopped to strike his pipe against a match, when he saw the dead body of |
Chorus: A sweet rustic damsel with cheeks like the rose
A Roman shaped eye, and a cast in her nose.
With the knife the old man he an end to him put
Then spurned with his body the murderer's foot
To commit suicide then his way he did wend
So that is the tale of a very sad end.
| Spoken: Poor old man. His was the fate to be lamented, cut off in the flower of his youth. In the bloom of womanhood she died. Her memory was short but her life is still revered by those who knew. |
Chorus: A sweet rustic damsel with cheeks like the rose
A Roman shaped eye, and a cast in her nose.
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