Sweet Hellen of the Dee/The Wood Man

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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The moon has too withdrawn her light,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-Chace
we'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.