Edward American Murder Song

Mother, I am worn by the day
Chasing through the ice and wood
Where William and I oft fetch and play
Out of breath
Mother, please don't stand in the way
Help these cottons from my frame
So red and frail am I, I could sway
To my death

Tell not thorn nor lie
Speak to me o murder child
Trouble's in your eye
Speak to me o murder child
You bite the hand that feeds and crow
So count here naked in the snow
Tell not thorn nor lie
Speak to me o murder child

Mother, I must go to my bed
Remove your windy barn door hands
These stains are of a hare that I've bled
On my sword
Mother, I have reasoned and pled
Nag your William, spoilt and late
For this is not the shade of his red
By my word