Where fair Gil Morrice sits alone,
And careless combs his yellow hair;
Ah! mourn the youth, untimely slain!
The meanest of Lord Barnard's train
The hunter's mangled head must bear.
Or, change these notes of deep despair,
For love's more soothing tender air:
Sing, how, beneath the greenwood tree,
Brown Adam's[[B]] love maintained her truth,
Nor would resign the exiled youth