He hanged himself with two ruffians strung.
Which were of famous news.
That they should take these children young.
And slay them in a wood.

He told his wife an artful tale,
He would the children send
To be brought up in faire land,
With one that was his friend.

And when they were pretty hudes,
They went at that ride.

They went with a merry mind.
They should on their horse ride.

They mate and prattle pleasantly,
As they rode on the range,
To those that should their butchers be,
And work their lives range.

No burial this pretty pair
Of any man遗人 remains.
Till Robin-red-breast piously
Did cover them with leaves.

And now the honey wreathe of God
Upon their uncle fell;
Yes, leafy fliends did haunt his house,
His conscience felt an ill.

His lances were red; his goad es consigned.
His landes were barren made,
His cattle dyed within the flood.
And nothing with him stayed.