The night my father got me
  His mind was not on me;
He did not plague his fancy
  To muse if I should be
  The son you see.

The day my mother bore me
  She was a fool and glad,
For all the pain I cost her,
  That she had borne the lad
  That borne she had.

My mother and my father
  Out of the light they lie;
The warrant would not find them,
  And here 'tis only I
  Shall hang so high.

Oh let not man remember
  The soul that God forgot
But fetch the county kerchief
  And noose me in the knot
  And I will rot.

For so the game is ended
  That should not have begun.
My father and my mother
  They had a likely son,
  And I have none.