All down by the greenwood side, O!
“I stuck my penknife in their hearts—
Heigho!
I stuck my penknife in their hearts;
And the more I stuck it the blood gushed out;
All down by the greenwood side, O!”
I softly pushed open the door, that stood ajar, and looked in. The old creature was sitting crooning in a chair, a picture or print of some kind, at which she was gazing in a sort of hungry ecstasy, held out and down before her at arm’s length. I stole on tiptoe behind her and sought to get a glimpse at that she devoured with her rheumy eyes.
“Why, what are you doing with that, Peg?” I said, with a start of surprise.
Cunning even under the spur of sudden discomfiture, she whipped the thing beneath her apron before she struggled to her feet and faced round upon me.
“What ails ye, Renalt?” she wheezed, in a voice like that of one winded by a blow—“to fright a body, sich like?”