The Ballad of Boney Filup

Now listen, lads, and fill your cups,

I’ll sing you the tale of Boney Filup—

A thief so bold, with hands so sly,

He went to rob Lord Richmond dry.

Lord Richmond's hoard he swept away,

By torchless night, not light of day;

Too much to carry, too much to hide,

He took Richmond's horse to ride.

But greed makes fools of cunning men,

The steed went lame around the bend;

Filup cursed, and left it behind

With half the wealth he’d sought to find.

Through swamp he fled with treasure-sack,

The boat near sank and pitched its back;

Silver spilled, and gold went down,

Sunk to feed the river’s crown.

He climbed a hill with what was left,

A necklace bright, his final theft;

Hand and foot, he scrabbled high,

Four slappers chased to make him die.

At cliff’s crown he dared the sea,

Dreamed to flee Richmond’s decree;

But the chain about his neck did cling,

And caught a stone like a strangling sling.

There he hung, the waves below,

A rattling bag of bone and woe;

The lord rode up, and laughed to see,

His treasure hanging like a tree.

And there he left him, bone to bone,

A skeleton, a warning shown;

That all might learn who pass that steep,

Shear the sheep—don’t skin it deep.