Lying in the brook she's naked Cold and dead, raped and broken Sweet Maude Bowen victim of a man Now at her side does lie her rapist Her mother's brother, cold as she is An avenging angel's arrow in his heart And the squire he does blame her With his lies he does shame her Sweet Maude Bowen shamed a suicide
Now here is a tale, a story to be told Of a young girl, but fifteen years old Impaled as a vampire, her mother burned as a witch Now these were the crimes, the crimes of the rich
At the cross-roads they impale her With the elm they claim to save her Save her soul from Satan's evil lair Now her mother weeps in madness At the tree, at the crossroads The tree that grows from sweet Maude Bowen's heart The squire's men do taunt and tease her Drag her off the grave and jeer her Then one more dies with an arrow in his heart
Now here is a tale, a story to be told Of a young girl, but fifteen years old Impaled as a vampire, her mother burned as a witch Now these were the crimes, the crimes of the rich
Up before the judge at Gloucester Accused a witch now they will burn her At the tree at the cross-roads will she die Tied to the elm the faggots smoking Maude's sweet mother crying, choking Mother, daughter, victims of a man And the squire stands there laughing With his men they're laughing, joking Then he is dead with an arrow in his heart
Now here is a tale, a story to be told Of a young girl, but fifteen years old Impaled as a vampire, her mother burned as a witch Now these were the crimes, these were the crimes of the rich