Matty Groves – Alela Diane (feat. Alina Hardin)By A holiday, a holidayThe first one of the yearLord Arland’s wife came into the churchThe gospel for to hearAnd when the meeting it was doneShe cast her eyes aboutAnd there she saw little Matty GrovesWalking in the crowd“Come home with me, little Matty GrovesCome home with me tonightCome home with me, little Matty GrovesAnd sleep with me till light”“Oh, I can’t come home, I won’t come homeSleep with you tonightBy the rings on your fingers I can tellYou are my master’s wife”“Well, if I am Lord Arland’s wifeLord Arland’s not at homeHe is out in the far cornfieldsBringing the yearlings home”And a servant who was standing byAnd hearing what was saidHe swore Lord Arland he would knowBefore the sun would setAnd in his hurry to carry the newsHe bent his breast and ranAnd when he came to the broad millstreamHe took off his shoes and swamMatty Groves, he lay downAnd took a little sleepWhen he awoke, Lord ArlandWas standing at his feetSaying “How do you like my feather bedHow do you like my sheetsHow do you like my ladyWho lies in your arms asleep?”“Oh, well I like your feather bedAnd well I like your sheetsBut better I like your lady gayWho lies in my arms asleep”“Well, get up, get up,” Lord Arland cried“Get up as quick as you canIt’ll never be said in fair EnglandThat I slew a naked man”“Well, I can’t get up, I won’t get upI can’t get up for my lifeFor you have two long beaten swordsAnd I not a pocket knife”“Well it’s true I have two beaten swordsAnd they cost me deep in the purseBut you will have the better of themAnd I will have the worseAnd you will strike the very first blowAnd strike it like a manAnd I will strike the very next blowAnd I’ll kill you if I can”So Matty struck the very first blowAnd he hurt Lord Arland soreLord Arland struck the very next blowAnd Matty struck no moreAnd then Lord Arland took his wifeAnd sat her on his kneeSaying, “Who do you like the best of usMatty Groves or me?”And then up spoke his own dear wifeNever heard to speak so free“I’d rather a kiss from dead Matty’s lipsThan you or your finery”Lord Arland he jumped upAnd loudly he did bawlHe struck his wife right through the heartAnd pinned her against the wall“A grave, a grave,” Lord Arland cried“To put these lovers inBut bury my lady at the topShe was of noble kin” www.pillowlyrics.com419786497975 88k 20