The Weaver's Cottage

There were two sisters who went playing

To see their father's ships come sailing

And when they came unto the sea-rim

The elder did push the younger in

Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam

Till her corpse came to the miller's dam

And what did he do with her breastbone?

He made him a viol to play on

And what did he do

with her fingers so small?

He made his pegs to his viol to dwell on And what

did he do with her nose-ridge?

Unto his viol he made a bridge

And what did he do with her veins so blue?

He made strings for his viol,

thereto

What did he do with her eyes so bright?

On his viol, he set at first light

What did he do with her tongue so rough?

'Twas the new till,

and it spoke enough Then bespake the treble string

O' yonder is my father,

the king. Then bespoke the second string

O' yonder sits my mother,

the queen. Then bespoke the strings,

all three O

yonder is my sister who drowned me.

Who is in my house?