She married a man for his gold and land, After plighting her troth, you see; He turned her head, and she gave her hand, But her soul was in love with me. He proved a brute from the very start, And in one short year, she died; He beat her body and broke her heart— She was only a purchased bride. Bob White, Bob White! The man who received her life; Bob White, Bob White! The man who bought a wife; That spiteful call, From the old stone wall— Bob White, Bob White! And the name of the man was Robert White, A Britain, from over the sea— A man with a heart as black as night, And he stole my sweetheart from me. The bird comes back to the grave each year, And sits on the old stone wall, And seems to say to the dead, My dear, Do you love the man I call? Bob White, Bob White! The man who broke your heart! Bob White, Bob White! Does it make your mem’ry start? Oh, I love to shout This vile name out— Bob White, Bob White! I must go and chase the bird away, So the woman I love may sleep— The woman still dear to me today, Tho’ the world must not see me weep. I hate the name of the man he calls, And the dead, tho’ buried from sight, Must curse each note that spitefully falls, And the name of the man—Bob White. Bob White, Bob White! My curse be on your head! Bob White, Bob White! Go, leave in peace the dead; Her soul is mine, Tho’ her body was thine, Bob White, Bob White! Go away, you bird of spiteful song, My sweetheart is at rest; But through your calling the whole day long Sad memories might pain her heart. And my own heart still bleeds anew While you call, from mourn to night, That name, so spitefully sung by you— That hated name—Bob White! Bob White, Bob White! Be gone, you evil bird! Bob White, Bob White! My soul is within me stirred; Call not in shame That dastard’s name— Bob White, Bob White! WHIPPING A CHILD