Sweet Hellen of the Dee/The Wood Man
For other versions of this work, see "Stay, traveller, tary here to-night".
THE WOOD MAN.
⟨Say⟩, traveller, tarry here to-night,the rain yet beats, the wind is loud,⟨The⟩ moon has too withdrawn her light,and gone to sleep within a cloud;
'Tis seven long miles across the moor,and shau'd you chance to go astray,You'll meet, I fear, no friendly door,nor soul to tell the ready way.
Come, dearest Kate, our meal prepare,this stranger shall partake our best;A cake and rasher be his fare,with ale that makes the weary blest.
Approach the hearth, there take a place,And, till the hour of rest draws nigh,Of Robin Hood and Chevy-Chacewe'll sing, then to our pallets hie.
Had I the means, I'd use you well;'tis little I have got to boast:Yet shou'd you of this cottage tell,say, Hal, the wood-man was your host.
