When restless ghosts their wrongs deplore.
James rode up to her uncle’s door,
With her father’s horse they drest before.
O who is there? the maiden cries:
O it is I, the ghost replies:
The horse, hood, safeguard, come and view,
You’ll find a messenger most true:
Forthwith with me then instant ride,
Nor fear nor ill need you betide.
When all the uncle understood,