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JOANNA BAILLIE

1762-1851

524                                        The Outlaws Song

THE chough and crow to roost are gone,
   The owl sits on the tree,
The hushd wind wails with feeble moan,
   Like infant charity.
The wild-fire dances on the fen,
   The red star sheds its ray;
Uprouse ye then, my merry men!
   It is our opning day.
Both child and nurse are fast asleep,
   And closed is every flower,
And winking tapers faintly peep
   High from my ladys bower;
Bewilderd hinds with shortend ken
   Shrink on their murky way;
Uprouse ye then, my merry men!
   It is our opning day.

Nor board nor garner own we now,
   Nor roof nor latchàed door,
Nor kind mate, bound by holy vow
   To bless a good mans store;
Noon lulls us in a gloomy den,
   And night is grown our day;
Uprouse ye then, my merry men!
   And use it as ye may.

 

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