The Bloody Miller, or The Murdering Miller
One month ago since Christmas last
The most unhappy day,
The devil, he persuaded me
To take her life away.
I met her at her sister's house
'Twas eight o' clock that night,
But little did that creature know
I owed her any spite.
I asked her if she'd walk with me
In the fields a little way,
That we might both so well agree
And appoint the wedding day.
As we went down a lonesome place
To the fields a little way,
I drew a stick out of the hedge
And struck her in the face.
As she came down to bended knees
“Oh, murderer, she did cry,
For Heaven's sake don't murder me
For I am not fit to die.”
And then to wash her sins away
I took her by the hair,
And drug her to a river near
And left her body there.
Then to my mill, my mill I ran,
The miller was amazed,
He slowly fixed his eyes on me
And slowly he did gaze.
Oh, master, master, master, dear,
You look as pale as death,
Have you been running all this night
That put you out of breath?
What means the blood upon your hands,
Likewise upon your clothes?
I answered him immediately
By bleeding at the nose.