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It was in a willow garden that me and my true love strayedIt was there I sat according, my love dropped off to sleepI had a bottle of Persian wine my true love did not knowThat's why I murdered that dear little girl down under the bank belowI stabbed her with a dagger which was a bloody knifeI threw her in the river which was an awful sightMy father often told me that money would set me freeThat's why I murdered that dear little girl whose name was Rose ConleyMy father sits in his cabin door, wiping his tear-dimmed eyesWhile his own dear son is hanging out on the scaffold highMy race is run beneath the sun, no help awaits for meBecause I murdered that dear little girl whose name was Rose Conley
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