3
‘Tho’ the castle of Richmond stands fair on the hill,
My hall,’ quoth bold Allen, ‘shows gallanter still;
’Tis the blue vault of heaven, with its crescent so pale,
And with all its bright spangles!’ said Allan-a-dale
The father was steel, and the mother was stone,
They lifted the latch and bade him begone.
But loud on the morrow their wail and their cry;
He had laughed on the lass with his bonnie black eye;
And she fled to the forest to hear a love-tale.
And the youth it was told by was Allen-a-dale.
MARY WEEP NAE MAIR FOR ME.
The lovely moon had climbed the hill,
Where eagles big aboon the Dee,
And like the looks of a lovely dame,
Brought joy to every body’s ee;
O’ but sweet Mary, deep in sleep,
Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea,
A voice drapt saftly on her ear,
Sweet Mary, weep nae mair for me,
She lifted up her waukening een,
To see from whence the voice might be,
And there she saw her Sandy stand,
