THE WILD, WILD BERRY (traditional UK)

This is the second version of Lord Randal (Child Ballad #12) on this recording. This one has a much more literary sound to it.
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Young [bad word] from hunting faint and weary
“What does ail my lord, my dearie?”

“O Mother dear, let my bed be made
For I feel the gripe of the woody nightshade.”
Lie low sweet Randal

 [bad word] :
Now you young men all who do eat full well
And they that sup right merry
‘Tis far better, I entreat,
To have toads for your meat
Than to eat of the wild, wild berry

This young man he died eftsoon
By the light of a hunters’ moon
‘Twas not by bolt, nor yet by blade
But the deathly gripe of the woody nightshade
Lie low sweet Randal

 [bad word] 

This lord’s false love, they hanged her high
For her deeds were the cause of her love to die
And in her hair they entwined a braid
Of the leaves and the berries of the woody nightshade
Lie low sweet Randal

 [bad word] 
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Collected by Gwilym Davies from Ray Driscol in England.