Classic Poem

For Exmoor--
For Exmoor, where the red deer run, my weary heart doth cry:
She that will a rover wed, far her feet shall hie.
Narrow, narrow, shows the street, dull the narrow sky.
--Buy my cherries, whiteheart cherries, good my masters, buy!

For Exmoor--
O he left me, left alone, aye to think and sigh--
"Lambs feed down yon sunny coombe, hind and yearling shy
Mid the shrouding vapours walk now like ghosts on high.'
--Buy my cherries, blackheart cherries, lads and lasses, buy!

For Exmoor--
Dear my dear, why did ye so? Evil day have I;
Mark no more the antler'd stag, hear the curlew cry,
Milking at my father's gate while he leans anigh.
--Buy my cherries, whiteheart, blackheart, golden girls, O buy!