Matty Groves Chords

Capo 2nd fret

Standard (EADGBE)

Dm

A holiday, A holyday

The first one of the yFear

Lord Arlen's wife came iCnto the church

The goAmspel for to hDmear

AAmnd when the meeting it was done

She cast her eyes aboCut

And there she saw little MGatty Groves

WaEmlking in the crAmowd

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.