Fairport Convention

Matty Groves ukulele

Fairport Convention

Album:Liege and Lief


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Matty Groves

A holiday, a holyday 
The first one of the year 
Lord Arlen's wife came into the church 
      Am           Dm 
The gospel for to hear 
And when the meeting it was done 
She cast her eyes about 
And there she saw little Matty Groves 
 (Em)           (Am)  
Walking in the crowd 
Come home with me little Matty Groves 
Come home with me tonight 
Come home with me little Matty Groves 
And sleep with me tonight 
Oh, I can't come home, I won't come home 
And sleep with you tonight 
By the rings on your fingers I can tell 
You are Lord Arlen's wife 
'T is true I am lord Arlen's wife 
Lord Arlen's not at home 
He is out to the far corn fields 
Bringing the yearlings home 
And the servant who was standing by 
And hearing what was said 
He swore Lord Arlen he would know 
Before the sun would set 
And in his hurry to carry the news 
He filled his breast and ran 
And when he came to the broad mill stream 
He took off his shoes and swam 
Little Matty Groves, he laid down 
And took a little sleep 
When he awoke Lord Arlen 
Was standing at his feet 
Saying how do you like my feather bed 
And how do you like my sheets 
And how do you like my lady 
Who lies in your arms to sleep 
O well I like your feather bed 
And well I like your sheets 
But better I like your lady maid 
Who lies in my arms to sleep 
Well get up get up Lord Arlen cried 
Get up as quick as you can 
It'll never be said in fair England 
I slew a naked man 
Oh I won't get up I won't getup 
I can't get up for my life 
For you have two long beating swords 
And have not a pocket knife 
Well it's true I have two beating swords 
They cost me deep in the purse 
But you will have the better of them 
And I will have the worst 
And you will strikke the very first blow 
And strike it like a man 
And I will strike the very next blow 
And hit you if I can 
So Matty struck the very first blow 
But struck Lord Arlen's sword 
Lord Arlen struck the very next blow 
And Matty struck no more 
And the Lord Arlen he took his wife 
And he sat her on his knee 
Saying who do like the best of us 
Matty groves or me 
And then up spoke his own dear wife 
Never heard het speak so free 
I'd rather get a kiss from dead Matty's lips 
Than you and your finery 
Lord Arlen he jumped up 
And loudly he did bawl 
He stuck his wife right through the heart 
And pinned her against the wall 
A grave a grave Lord Arlen cried 
To put these lovers in 
But bury my lady at the top 
For she was of noble kin. 
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