Текст песни m.j.harris and martyn bates - the two brothers

There were two brothers in the north,
both jealous for their sisters love;
And the one unto the other said,
“Will you try a wrestle broter?”

O They warsled up and they warsled down,
Till the one he fell unto ground,
For there was a knife in his broter pouch,
That gave unto him a deadlie wound.

“O brother dear, take me up your back,
And carry me to yon burn clear,
And wash the blood from off my wound,
And it will bleed no more.”

He took him up upon his back,
And carried him over to yon burn clear,
And he has washed the blood from off his wound,
And o it bled the more.

“O brother dear, take me upon your back,
And carry me to yon kirk-yard,
And dig me a grave both wide and deep,
And lay my body there.”

He has taken him up upon his back,
And carried him to yon kirk-yard,
And he has dug a grave both wide and deep,
And he has laid his body there.

“O what will you say to my sister dear,
Should she chance to ask where have I gone?”
“O say that I have to England gone,
To buy for her a weding ring.”

“Ah but what will I say to her you love so dear,
O shoud she cry, why tarries my John?”
“O tell her I lie in Kirk-land so fair,
And home again I never will come.”