Down in the willow garden
Where me and my [bad word] love did meet
It was there, we went a courting
My love fell off to sleep

I had a bottle of burgundy wine
My [bad word] love, she did not know
It was there, I murdered that dear little girl
Down on the banks below

I drew my saber through her
It was a bloody knife
I threw her into the river
And it was an awful sight

My father often, he told me
That money would set me free
If I'd but murdered that dear little girl
Whose name was Rose Connelly

Now, he stands at his cabin door
Wiping his tear dimmed eye
Gazing on his own dear son
Upon the gallows high

My race [bad word] beneath the sun
The devil is waiting for me
For I did murder that dear little girl
Whose name was Rose Connelly

Down in the willow garden
Where me and my [bad word] love did meet
It was there, we went a courting
My love fell off to sleep

I had a bottle of burgundy wine
My [bad word] love, she did not know
It was there, I murdered that dear little girl
Down on the banks below.