It was last Monday morning as I lay on my bed
A young friend came to me and unto me said
Rise up Henry Higgins and flee you elsewhere
For they're bound out against you by the young Fanny Blair
Fanny Blair is a girl of eleven years old
And if I must die then the truth I'll unfold
I never had dealings with her in my time
But now I must die for another man's crime

On the day of the trial Squire Vernon was there
And on the green table they've lifted Fanny Blair
And the lies that she swore to I'm ashamed for to tell
But the judge spoke up quick, saying 'You've told it right well'

Henry Higgins of Branfield, O whither art thou flown?
It's you're a poor prisoner condemned and alone
If Jackie McNiell of Newcastle was here
In spite of old Vernon we'd soon have you clear

On the day that young Higgins was condemned for to die
The people rose up with a murmuring cry
We'll catch her and crop her, she's a perjuring little whore
Young Henry is innocent, of that we're very sure

Just one thing remains before my life do end
Don't bury me in some old prison ground so far from many a friend
Leave my body to lie in the sweet Branfiels mould
And I pray the Lord pardons that little girl's soul