[ Trad. arr Wedlock. This ballad has many other names
And a rich history of recordings by many artistes. See:
The village of Bruton is only about
Moreton Bay, Spencer the Rover, and Bruton Town
Are *not* sung in Fred's trademark West Country accent. ]
In Bruton Town there dwelled a noble,
Who had two sons, and a daughter fair,
And every day they were contriving,
To fill their sister's heart with care.
One night, one night of restless slumber,
One brother rose up from his bed,
He heard a servant court his sister,
And he heard they had a mind to wed.
He early rose the very next morning,
A-hunting in the woods to go,
And there he did the young man murder,
In a bramble briar did his body throw.
"Oh brother, brother, why do you whisper?
And what's become of the servant lad?"
"We lost him while we were a-hunting,
And we lost him where he may never be found."
She went upstairs, crying and weeping,
And mourning for her own true love,
And while she slept, she dreamed she saw him,
All covered o'er with his own young blood.
She early rose, the very next morning,
She searched the fields and the woodland round,
Until she found her own dear jewel,
In a bramble briar, where his body lay thrown.
Three days and nights, she did lay by him,
She kissed the eyes that could not see,
And to shield him from the heat of the sunshine,
She covered him o'er with the leaves of a tree.
Three days and nights, she did lay by him,
She thought her heart would break with woe,
'Til cruel hunger at least overcame her,
And in despair to her home did go.
"Oh sister, sister, why do you whisper,
And won't you tell us where you've been?"
"Stand off, stand off, you bloody butchers,
For my love and I, you have both slain."