I fell in love with an Oxford girl
She had a dark and a roving eye
But I feeled too ashamed for to marry her
Her being so young a maid

I went up to her father's house
About twelve o'clock one night
Asking her if she's take a walk
Through the fields and meadows gay

I took her by the lily-white hand
And I kissed her cheek and chin
But I had no thoughts of murdering her
Nor in no evil way

I catched a stick from out the hedge
And I gently knocked her down
And blood from that poor innocent girl
Came a-trinkling to the ground

I catched fast hold of her curly, curly locks
And I dragged her through the fields
Until we came to a deep riverside
Where I gently flung her in

Look how she go, look how she floats
She's a-drowning on the tide
And instead of her having a watery grave
She should have been my bride