As I walked out over London Bridge,
One misty morning early,
I overheard a fair pretty maid
Was lamenting the life of Geordie.

“Oh my Geordie will be hanged in a golden chain;
Tis not the chain of many;
He was born of kings’ royal blood
And courted a virtuous lady

“Go bridle me my milk white steed;
Go bridle me my pony.
I will ride to London’s court
To plead for the life of Geordie”

And as she rode into the courtyard
There were lords and ladies a-plenty
And all on her bended knee she fell
To plead for the life of Geordie.

“Oh my Geordie never stole nor cow nor calf;
He never hurted any.
Stole sixteen of the King’s royal deer
And he sold then in Bohenny.”

The judge looked over his left shoulder.
He said “Dear girl I’m sorry.”
He said “dear girl, you’ve come too late,
For he’s been condemned already.”

“Oh let Geordie hang in a golden chain;
Tis not the chain of many.
Stole sixteen of the King’s royal deer
And he sold them in Bohenny.

“Two pretty babies have I born.
The third lies in my body.
I’d freely part with them everyone
To spare the life of Geordie.”