It was Hankie the Squire,
But a poor murdered woman
boys, hot dogs they throwed on
A leather -haired carmine,
They tried all the bushes,
But a poor murdered woman,
They whipped their dogs off,
For I do think it proper,
she should have fair play
They tried all the bullshit,
But a poor murdered woman,
and they rode off the ground
and alarmed it all around
It's late in the evening,
to the spot they did flock
To see that poor creature,
Some coldness, some violence,
She was took off the common,
And the man that has kept it,
The coroner was sent for,
And took to the churchyard
that is called Leatherhead
Can't you see the poor creature
And those that have done it,
shall I find themselves wrong
For the last day of judgement,
I'm afraid won't be found