181
And Betty's Husband's at the wood,
Where by the week he doth abide,
A Woodman in the distant vale;
There's none to help poor Susan Gale;
What must be done? what will betide?
And Betty from the lane has fetched
Her Pony, that is mild and good,
Whether he be in joy or pain,
Feeding at will along the lane,
Or bringing faggots from the wood.
And he is all in travelling trim,—
And, by the moonlight, Betty Foy
Has up upon the saddle set,
(The like was never heard of yet)
Him whom she loves, her Idiot Boy.
And he must post without delay
Across the bridge that 's in the dale,
And by the church, and o'er the down,
To bring a Doctor from the town,
Or she will die, old Susan Gale.
