‘And when shall I see again my grey mare?’—
All along, down along, out along, lee.
‘By Friday soon, or Saturday noon,
Wi’ Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer,’ &c.
III
Then Friday came, and Saturday noon,
All along, down along, out along, lee.
But Tom Pearse’s old mare hath not trotted home,
Wi’ Bill Brewer, &c.
IV
So Tom Pearse he got up to the top o’ the hill,
All along, down along, out along, lee.
And he seed his old mare down a-making her will
Wi’ Bill Brewer, &c.
V
So Tom Pearse’s old mare, her took sick and her died.
All along, down along, out along, lee.
And Tom he sat down on a stone, and he cried.
Wi’ Bill Brewer, &c.
VI
But this isn’t the end o’ this shocking affair,
All along, down along, out along, lee.
Nor, though they be dead, of the horrid career
Of Bill Brewer, &c.