Joan Baez

As I walked out over London bridge
One misty morning early,
I overheard a fair pretty maid
Was lamenting for her Geordie.
Ah, my Geordie will be hanged in a golden chain,
'Tis not the chain of many
He was born of king's royal breed
And lost to a virtuous lady.
Go bridle me my milk white steed,
Go bridle me my pony,
I will ride to London court
To plead for the life of my Geordie.
Ah, my Geordie never stole nor cow nor calf,
He never hurted any,
Stole sixteen of the king's royal deer,