I mounted my mule, and we rode away,
With our haily, &c.
We canter'd along until it grew dark,
Galloping, dreary, dun,
The nightingale sung instead of the lark,
With her, &c.
We met with a friar, and ask'd him our way,
Galloping, dreary, dun,
By the Lord, says the friar, you're both gone astray,
With your, &c.