To the tune of The Sweet Primroses. (http://glostrad.com/banks-of-sweet-primroses-the/)

Farewell to all, my days are numbered, I must go down to gehinnom's shore;

It's there that I'll dine on dust and ashes, And there I'll fear the fatal gallows tree no more.

Nature's friends; you are truely suff'ring, what your suff'ring is there's none can tell; And when you found I had you slighted,

Your lust for vengence there's none could excell.

The engraving of Cain is for ever on thee, For the deeds you've sought and done.

My foes are gath'ring for the slaughter, A father's weeping, all for his son.

Flow on, flow on, you lovely river, sweeter than honey are your waters fair.

Sweeter than honey, the taste of death is; It is a light load that, yet I am loath to bear.

Take me up to the quiet city, where all my troubles must surely end.

For fine food they set before me, and scarlet robes they did to me lend.

But the food was made out of thistles and ivy, and the ale it was not any good.

And the scarlet robes were but a white shroud, scarlet only with my innocent blood.