---

As I was walking down by the loch.
As I was walking one morning of late.
Who should I spy but my own dear comrade?
Wrapped up in flannel
So hard is his fate.

I boldly stepped up to
And kindly did ask him
Why are you wrapped in flannel so white?

My body is injured and sadly disordered
All by a young woman, my own heart’s delight
Oh had she but told me, when she disordered me
Had she but told me of it at the time.
I might have got salts or pills of white mercury
But now I’m cut down, in the height of my prime

Get six pretty maidens, to carry my coffin
And get six pretty maidens, to bear up my pall
And give to each of them, bunches of roses
That they may not smell me, as they go along.

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