Ewan MacColl — Through Moorfields

[Verse 1] It was through Moorfields I wandered by meself all alone; I heard a maid in Bedlam a-making a sad moan She was wringing of her tender hands, and tearing of her hair Crying, “Oh! cruel parents! you have proved to me severe! [Verse 2] “You have taken my own true love and to sea made him go Pressed all on a man-of-war which caused my overthrow It made me sorely to lament and tarned my poor brain.” Crying, “Oh! Shall I ever see my own true love again?” [Verse 3] It was early the next morning this young sailor came on shore He walked and he talked down alongside by Bedlam door And be gave unto the porter a broad piece of gold Saying, “Bring that young girl to me, she's the joy of my soul.” [Verse 4] Then he took her from her straw bed and set her on his knee Saying, “I'm that same young man that your parents pressed to sea But now my cares are gone and all my sorrows they are fled Then adieu unto these chains and this cold straw bed.”