As I walked under London Bridge One misty morning early, I overheard a fair, pretty maid, Was lamenting for her Geordie. O my Geordie will be hanged in a golden chain, 'Tis not the chain of many. He was born of King's royal breed And lost to a virtous lady Go bridle me my milk white steed Go bridle me my pony I will ride to London's court And to plead for the life of Geordie. O my Geordie never stole nor cow nor calf He never hurted any Stole sixteen of the King's royal deer And he sold them in&n编辑于2003/01/01更新