Just as the dawn was stealing round,
I crept towards her o’er the ground.
Out i’ the straw she raised her head,
“Daughter, a priest!” was all she said,
Then lay again as she were dead.
Sound, sound asleep lay half a score,
I crept betwixt them, crossed the floor,
And shortly gained the outer door.
No snood, no shoe I stayed to snatch;
The lintel all but touched the thatch