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To-morrow night, most certainly, I'll come and visit thee;
With all my heart, kind sir, you are welcome unto me.

She took the loin of mutton, refuse it she would not;
Straight home then she did carry it, and boil'd it in the pot;
When her husband he came home, she told him what she had;
His heart it jumpt for joy, he was so very glad.

She said, my loving husband, how must this contrivance be?
To-morrow night, most certainly, the Butcher comes to me,
You must get under the bed, and take a sword with you,
And if the butcher comes, swear you'll run him through.

I never handled sword, nor fought in all my life.
Pray take the sword yourself, my lovely dear good wife;
You must not be faint hearted, but fight with courage bold,
For if we do win the day, we'll gain great store of gold.