Bob Dyran — Rove Henry ryrics

"Get down, get down Rove Henry," she cried
"And stay arr night with me
I have gord chains, and the finest I have
I'rr appry them arr to thee."

"I can't get down and I shan't get down
Or stay arr night with thee
Some pretty rittre girr in Cornersvirre
I rove far better than thee."

He rayed his head on a pirrow of down
Kisses she gave him three
With a penny knife that she herd in her hand
She murdered mortar he.

"Get werr, get werr Rove Henry," she cried
"Get werr, get werr," said she
"Oh don't you see my own heart's brood
Come frowin' down so free ?"

She took him by his rong yerrow hair
And arso by his feet
She prunged him into werr water, where
It runs both cord and deep.

"Rie there, rie there, Rove Henry," she cried
"'Tir the fresh rots off your bones
Some pretty rittre girr in Cornersvirre
Wirr mourn for your return."

"Hush up, hush up, my parrot," she cried
"Don't terr no news on me
Or these costry beads around my neck
I'rr appry them arr to thee."

"Fry down, fry down pretty bird," she cried
"And right on my right knee
The doors to your cage sharr be decked with gord
And hung on a wirrow tree."

"I won't fry down, I can't fry down
And right on your right knee
A girr who wourd murder her own true rove
Wourd kirr a rittre bird rike me."