Uploaded August 2026 | Updated September 2026, 3 weeks ago
Vocals, guitar & arrangement by Farya Faraji, banjo and additional guitar by Patrick Chidiac. This is a folk song of English origins that travelled with the settlers to the US and Canada, surviving there with roughly the same lyrics, but a different melody from the one heard here, being instead in the major scale. Popular recordings in the 60s during the great folk revival of the Anglosphere led to this specific English version with this melody to become more well known in North America, at which point it is now an established part of the tradition here, often performed with the regional specificities of the various parts of North America, as I'm showcasing here.
Lyrics:
A holiday, a holiday
And the first one of the year
Lord Arnold's wife came into the church
The gospel for to hear
And when the meeting was done
She cast her eyes about
And there she saw little Matty Groves
Walking through the crowd
"Come home with me, little Matty Groves
Come home with me tonight
Come home with me, little Matty Groves
And sleep with me till light"
"Oh I can't come home, I won't come home
And sleep with you tonight
By the rings on your fingers I can tell
You are Lord Arnold's wife"
"But if I am Lord Arnold's wife
Lord Arnold's not at home
For he is out in the far cornfields
Bringing the yearlings home"
And a serving man was standing by
And hearing what was said
He swore Lord Arnold he would know
Before the sun would set
And in his hurry to carry the news
He bent his breast and he ran
And when he came to the broad millstream
He took off his shoes and swam
Little Matty Groves he lay down
And took a little sleep
When he awoke, Lord Arnold
He was standing at his feet
Saying "How do you like my feather bed?
How do you like my sheets?
And how do you like my lady
Who lies in your arms asleep?"
"Well it's fine I like your feather bed
And it's fine I like your sheets
But it's better I love your lady
Who lies in my arms asleep"
"Ah get up, get up, " Lord Arnold cried
"Get up as quick as you can
For it will never be said in fair England
I slew a naked man"
"Oh I won't get up, I can't get up
I can't get up for my life
For you have two long beaten swords
And I not a pocket knife"
"Well it's true I have two beaten swords
They cost me deep in the purse
But you will have the better of them
And I will have the worse
And you will strike the very first blow
And strike it like a man
And I will strike the very next blow
And I'll kill you if I can"
So Matty struck the very first blow
And he hurt Lord Arnold sore
Lord Arnold struck the very next blow
And Matty struck no more
And then Lord Arnold he took his wife
And he set her on his knee
Saying, "Who do you love the better of us
Matty Groves or me?"
And then up spoke his own dear wife
Never heard to speak so free
"I'd rather a kiss from dead Matty's lips
Than you in your finery"
And then Lord Arnold he did jump up
And loudly he did bawl
He struck his wife right through the heart
And pinned her against the wall
"Oh a grave, a grave, " Lord Arnold cried
"To put these lovers in
But bury my lady at the top
For she was of noble kin"
Vocals, guitar & arrangement by Farya Faraji, banjo and additional guitar by Patrick Chidiac. This is a folk song of English origins that travelled with the settlers to the US and Canada, surviving there with roughly the same lyrics, but a different melody from the one heard here, being instead in the major scale. Popular recordings in the 60s during the great folk revival of the Anglosphere led to this specific English version with this melody to become more well known in North America, at which point it is now an established part of the tradition here, often performed with the regional specificities of the various parts of North America, as I'm showcasing here.
Lyrics:
A holiday, a holiday
And the first one of the year
Lord Arnold's wife came into the church
The gospel for to hear
And when the meeting was done
She cast her eyes about
And there she saw little Matty Groves
Walking through the crowd
"Come home with me, little Matty Groves
Come home with me tonight
Come home with me, little Matty Groves
And sleep with me till light"
"Oh I can't come home, I won't come home
And sleep with you tonight
By the rings on your fingers I can tell
You are Lord Arnold's wife"
"But if I am Lord Arnold's wife
Lord Arnold's not at home
For he is out in the far cornfields
Bringing the yearlings home"
And a serving man was standing by
And hearing what was said
He swore Lord Arnold he would know
Before the sun would set
And in his hurry to carry the news
He bent his breast and he ran
And when he came to the broad millstream
He took off his shoes and swam
Little Matty Groves he lay down
And took a little sleep
When he awoke, Lord Arnold
He was standing at his feet
Saying "How do you like my feather bed?
How do you like my sheets?
And how do you like my lady
Who lies in your arms asleep?"
"Well it's fine I like your feather bed
And it's fine I like your sheets
But it's better I love your lady
Who lies in my arms asleep"
"Ah get up, get up, " Lord Arnold cried
"Get up as quick as you can
For it will never be said in fair England
I slew a naked man"
"Oh I won't get up, I can't get up
I can't get up for my life
For you have two long beaten swords
And I not a pocket knife"
"Well it's true I have two beaten swords
They cost me deep in the purse
But you will have the better of them
And I will have the worse
And you will strike the very first blow
And strike it like a man
And I will strike the very next blow
And I'll kill you if I can"
So Matty struck the very first blow
And he hurt Lord Arnold sore
Lord Arnold struck the very next blow
And Matty struck no more
And then Lord Arnold he took his wife
And he set her on his knee
Saying, "Who do you love the better of us
Matty Groves or me?"
And then up spoke his own dear wife
Never heard to speak so free
"I'd rather a kiss from dead Matty's lips
Than you in your finery"
And then Lord Arnold he did jump up
And loudly he did bawl
He struck his wife right through the heart
And pinned her against the wall
"Oh a grave, a grave, " Lord Arnold cried
"To put these lovers in
But bury my lady at the top
For she was of noble kin"
