'TWAS within a mile of Edinbro' town,

In the rosy time of the year;

Sweet flowers bloom'd, and the grass was down,

And each shepherd woo'd his dear.

Bonnie Jocky, blythe and gay,

Kiss'd sweet Jenny making hay:

The lassie blush'd, and frowning cried, "No, no, it will not do:

I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot, mannot buckle to."

WITHIN A MILE OF EDINBRO' TOWN.

Jocky was a wag that never would wed,
Though long he had follow'd the lass;
Contented she earn'd and eat her brown bread,

And merrily turn'd up the grass.

Bonnie Jocky, blythe and free,

Won her heart right merrily:

Yet still she blush'd, and frowning cried, "No, no, it will not do;

I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot, mannot buckle to."

But when he vow'd he would make her his bride,

Though his flocks and herds were not few,

She gave him her hand, and a kiss beside,

And vow'd she'd for ever be true.

Bonnie Jocky, blythe and free,

Won her heart right merrily:

At church she no more frowning said, "No, no, it will not do;

I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot, mannot buckle to."

ALLEN-A-DALE has no faggot 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 land 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 Allen-a-Dale!

Allen-a-Dale was ne'er belted a knight,

Though 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 vail,

Who at Rere-cross on Stanmore meets Allen-a-Dale.

Allen-a-Dale to his wooing is come;

The mother, she ask'd of his household and home:

Though the castle of Richmond stands fair on the hill, My hall," quoth bold Allen, " shows gallanter still; 'Tis the blue vault of heav'n, with its crescent so pale, And with all its bright spangles!" said Allen-a-Dale.

The father was steel, and the mother was stone;
They lifted the latch, and they bade him begone;
But loud, on the morrow, their wail and their cry:
He had laugh'd on the lass with his bonny black eye,
And she fled to the forest to hear a love-tale,
And the youth it was told by was Allen-a-Dale!