New Traditional Folk Song

She woke in the morning to her baby’s cry

Don’t cry my baby.

With an ache in her ribs and a blacked out eye

Don’t cry my little one.

She cradled the child and she stroked his head.

Don’t cry my baby.

And vowed that man would end up end

Don’t cry my little one.

He lay abed like an old prized sow.

Don’t cry my baby.

If it were done it had to be now.

Don’t cry my little one.

She went to the kitchen for her heaviest pan.

Don’t cry my baby.

Set about beating the beast of a man

Don’t cry my little one.

She beat him soundly and blood ran red.

Don’t cry my baby.

She smote him until he was dead

Don’t cry my little one.

Took all the she’d saved in a sack.

Don’t cry my baby.

Left with her child and never looked back.

Don’t cry my little one.