Southampton Tragedy

Traditional: arranged Brian Hooper and Jeff Henry

Within a jail I am lamenting, will no one shed a tear for me,
In agony I'm sore relenting, the author of a tragedy,
I dearly loved Naomi Kingswell, but she alas proved false to me,
I in Southampton did her murder, at the age of twenty three.

Oh my sad name is Abraham Baker, I gazed on Naomi with delight,
And we were both reared up so tender, in Newport in the Isle of Wight,
And pleasant hours we passed together in sweet love and harmony,
So fondly I did love my Naomi, and I thought she loved me.

In Southampton we fellow servants lived; oh, how dreadful is my case,
All with the Rev Mr Poynder, at number One in Moira Place,
My mind was always agitated unless I could my Naomi see,
And oh so fondly I did love her, but Naomi did look cold on me.

I did prepare a fatal pistol, and on the blessed Sabbath day,
Determined I went to the kitchen, my own true love to kill and slay,
So suddenly I drew that trigger, in her poor head I placed that ball,
And I did slay my own Naomi, she on the kitchen floor did fall.

Oh my father, oh my mother, can you view the deed I've done,
And shed one single tear of sorrow for your sad unhappy son,
Who at the Bar must shortly answer, for that sad and dreadful deed,
You Southampton men and maidens my confession closely read.

In the dark cells of Southampton, a wretch I lie both day and night,
In the midst of youth, in the midst of vigour, scarcely reached the prime of life,
The deed I did now makes me shudder, my guilty heart it wounds with pain,
Oh god, receive me in your mansion to dwell with Naomi once again