DmA holiday, a holydayFThe first one of the yearCLord Arlen's wife came into the churchAm DmThe gospel for to hearAmAnd when the meeting it was doneCShe cast her eyes aboutGAnd there she saw little Matty GrovesEm AmWalking in the crowdCome home with me little Matty GrovesCome home with me tonightCome home with me little Matty GrovesAnd sleep with me till lightOh, I can't come home, I won't come homeAnd sleep with you tonightBy the rings on your fingers I can tellYou are Lord Arlen's wife'T is true I am lord Arlen's wifeLord Arlen's not at homeHe is out to the far corn fieldsBringing the yearlings homeAnd the servant who was standing byAnd hearing what was saidHe swore Lord Arlen he would knowBefore the sun would setAnd in his hurry to carry the newsHe filled his breast and ranAnd when he came to the broad mill streamHe took off his shoes and swamLittle Matty Groves, he laid downAnd took a little sleepWhen he awoke Lord ArlenWas standing at his feetSaying how do you like my feather bedAnd how do you like my sheetsAnd how do you like my ladyWho lies in your arms to sleepO well I like your feather bedAnd well I like your sheetsBut better I like your lady maidWho lies in my arms to sleepWell get up get up Lord Arlen criedGet up as quick as you canIt'll never be said in fair EnglandI slew a naked manOh I won't get up I won't getupI can't get up for my lifeFor you have two long beaten swordsAnd have not a pocket knifeWell it's true I have two beaten swordsThey cost me deep in the purseBut you will have the better of themAnd I will have the worstAnd 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 canSo Matty struck the very first blowBut struck Lord Arlen's swordLord Arlen struck the very next blowAnd Matty struck no moreAnd the Lord Arlen he took his wifeAnd he sat her on his kneeSaying who do like the best of usMatty groves or meAnd then up spoke his own dear wifeNever heard het speak so freeI'd rather get a kiss from dead Matty's lipsThan you and your fineryLord Arlen he jumped upAnd loudly he did bawlHe stuck his wife right through the heartAnd pinned her against the wallA grave a grave Lord Arlen criedTo put these lovers inBut bury my lady at the topFor she was of noble kin.
Source: http://www.guitaretab.com/f/fairport-convention/48888.html