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ALLEN.A.DALE.
From the celebrated Poem of Rokeby, by Sir Walter Scott. Music by Mezzinght.
Allen-a-Dale has no fagget for burning, Allen-a-Dale has no furrow for turning, Allen-a-Dale has no fleece for the spinning: Yet Allen-a-Dale has red gold for the winning. Come read me my riddle, come hearken my tale, And tell me the craft of bold Allen-a-dale.
The Baron of Ravensworth prances in pride, And he views his domains upon Arkindale side, The mere for his net, and the lamb for his game, The chase for the wild, and the park for the tame; Yet the fish of the lake, and the deer of the vale, Are less free to Lord Dacre than Allan-a-Dale.
Allen-a-Dale was ne'er belted a knight, Tho' his spur be as sharp, and his blade be as bright; Allen-a-Dale is no baron or lord, Yet twenty tall yeomen will draw at his word; And the best of our nobles his bonnet will veil, Who at Rereeross on Stamore meets Allen-a-Dale.
Allen-a-Dale to his wooing is come; The mother she asked of his household and home, " Tho' the castle of Richmond stands fair on the bill, My ball," quoth bold Allen, “slows gallanter still; Tis the blue vault of heaven, with its erescent so pale, And with all its bright spangles !" said Allen-a-Dale.
The father was steel, and the mother was stove, 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.
CATCH FOR FOUR VOICES.
Sing ye with glee ;-Come, follow me; And then shall we-Good fellow's be.
