English

As I walked by a forest side,
I met with a foster; he bad me abide.

At a place where he me set,
He bad me, what time an hart I met,
That I shuld let slip and say " Go bet!"
With " Hay! go bet! Hay! go bet! Hay! go bet! How!"
We shall have game and sport ynow.

I had not stond there but a while,
Ye, not the montenance of a mile,
But a gret hart came renning, without any gile.
With " There he goth! There he goth! There he goth! How!"
We shall have game and sport ynow.

As I walk through the streets,
I think of the things
That are given to my friends:
Myths of old Greece and Egypt,
Greek flowers, Greek thoughts,
And all that incandescence,
All that grace,
Which I refuse.

If even the orchards of England,
Its gardens and its woods,
Its fields and its hills,
Its rivers and its seas,
Were mine;
But they are not.

But these are, nothing.
Give me the flame, O Gods,
To light these people with,
These pavements, this motor traffic,

As I traveled from the city
toward the country
old age fell off my shoulders.

As I strolled out one evening, out for a night's career,
I spied a lofty fire ship and after her did steer.
I hoisted her my siganals which she very quickly knew;
And when she seed my bunting fly she immediately hove to. C HOURS :
She's a dark and rolling eye,
And her hair hung down in ringalets.
She was a nice girl, a decent girl,
But one of the rakish kind.

" Oh, sir, you must excuse me for being out so late,
For if my parents knew of it, sad would be my fate.
My father he's a minister, a good and honest man,

As I stood at the door
Sheltered out of the wind,
Something flew in
Which I hardly could find.

In the dim gloomy doorway
I searched till I found
A dry withered leaf
Lying down on the ground.

With thin pointed claws
And a dry dusty skin,
—Sure, a hall is no place
For a leaf to be in!

Oh where is your tree,
And your summer and all,
Poor dusty leaf,
Whistled into a hall!

As I sit on a log here in the woods among the clean-faced beeches,
The trunks of the trees seem to me like the pipes of a mighty organ,
Thrilling my soul with wave on wave of the harmonies of the universal anthem—
The grand, divine, eonic “I am” chorus.

The red squirrel scolding in yonder hickory tree,
The flock of blackbirds chattering in council overhead,
The monotonous crickets in the unseen meadow,
Even the silent ants travelling their narrow highway with enormous burdens at my feet—

As I sat under as sycamore tree,
A sycamore tree, a sycamore tree,
I looked me out upon the sea
On Christ's Sunday at morn.

I saw three ships a-sailing there,
A-sailing there, a-sailing there,
Jesu, Mary and Joseph they bare
On Christ's Sunday at morn.

Joseph did whistle and Mary did sing,
Mary did sing, Mary did sing,
And all the bells on earth did ring
For joy our Lord was born.

O they sailed into Bethlehem,
To Bethlehem, to Bethlehem,
St. Michael was the steresman,

As I sat down to breakfast in state,
At my living of Tithing-cum-Boring,
With Betty beside me to wait,
Came a rap that almost beat the door in.
I laid down my basin of tea,
And Betty ceased spreading the toast.
"As sure as a gun, sir,' said she,
"That must be the knock of the post.'

A letter--and free--bring it here--
I have no correspondent who franks.
No! yes! can it be? Why, my dear,
'Tis our glorious, our Protestant Bankes.
"Dear sir, as I know you desire
That the Church should receive due protection,

As I sat down t'play a game o' coon can,
I could not play my han'.
I got to thinkin' about the woman I love,
She run away with another man.

Chorus
Run away with another man, po' boy,
Run away with another man.
I got to thinkin' about the woman I love,
She run away with another man, po' boy!

2

As I went down to the big depot,
The train came a-rumblin' by.
I looked in the window, saw the woman I loved,
And I hung my head and cried.

I hung my head and cried, po' boy,

As I sat down one evening
In a small cafe,
A forty-year-old waitress
These words to a man did say:

" I see you are a logger
And not just a common bum,
Because nobody but a logger
Stirs his coffee with his thumb.

" My lover was a logger;
There's none like him today.
If you poured whiskey on it,
He would eat a bale of hay.

" He never shaved the whiskers
From off of his horny hide;
He drove them in with a hammer
And bit them off inside.

" My lover he came to see me,