Mackerel of the Sea

When I was seven year old
 My dear mother did die
 My father married the worst woman
 The world did ever see
 She turned me to a loathsome worm
 To lie at the foot of the tree
 My sister Maisery she made
 The mackrel of the sea
 This father stood on the shore
 And hearing sore complaint
 And wondered at the laily moan
 And questioned what it meant
 Sing on your song you laily worm
 That you now sing to me
 For my two children have been gone
 This many year from me
 Every Saturday at noon
 The mackrel comes to me
 Changed back to my sister
 The Lady Maisery
 And she takes my laily head
 And lays it on her knee
 And combs it with a silver comb
 To wash it in the sea
 Seven knights I have slain
 As I lay at the foot of the tree
 And if you weren't my own father
 The eighth one you would be
 For it was your own wife
 Tied me to the foot of the tree
 And turned the lovely Maisery
 To the mackrel of the sea
 The father sent for his own wife
 As fast as send could he
 Where is the son you sent from me
 And my daughter Maisery?
 Why cry out so loudly
 And try to worry me?
 Your son is at our king's court
 Serving for meat and fee
 And your daughter at our queen's court
 Learning courtesy
 You lie, you lie, you ill woman
 So loud I hear you lie
 My son is the loathsome worm
 That lies at the foot of the tree
 And my daughter Maisery
 She is the mackrel of the sea
 Every Saturday at noon
 The mackrel comes to me
 Changed back to my sister
 The Lady Maisery
 And she takes my laily head
 And lays it on her knee
 And combs it with a silver comb
 To wash it in the sea
 She has taken a silver wand
 And gave him strokes three
 The worm became the bravest knight
 That ever your eyes did see
 She has taken a golden horn
 Loud and shrill she blew
 And all the fish soon swam to her
 But not the mackrel of the sea
 You shaped me once an unseemly shape
 You'll never more shape me
 And away she swam from that cold shore
 And was lost forever
 Every Saturday at noon
 The mackrel comes to me
 Changed back to my sister
 The Lady Maisery
 And she takes my laily head
 And lays it on her knee
 And combs it with a silver comb
 To wash it in the sea