Come, listen all, both great and small To you a tale I'll tell, What on this bleak and barren moor, In ancient days befell. It so befell, as I've heard tell, There came the hunter Childe, All day he chased on heath and waste, On Dart-a-moor so wild. 2 The winds did blow, then fell the snow, He chased on Fox-tor mire; He lost his way, and saw the day, And winter's sun expire. Cold blew the blast, the snow fell fast, And darker grew the night; He wandered high, he wandered low, And nowhere saw a light. 3 In darkness blind, he could not find Where he escape might gain, Long time he tried, no track espied, His labours all in vain. His knife he drew, his horse he slew, As on the ground it lay; He cut full deep, therein to creep, And tarry till the day. 4 The winds did blow, fast fell the snow, And darker grew the night, Then well he wot, he hope might not Again to see the light. So with his finger dipp'd in blood, He scrabbled on the stones,-- "This is my will, God it fulfil, And buried be my bones. 5 "Whoe'er he be that findeth me And brings me to a grave, The lands that now to me belong, In Plymstock he shall have." There was a cross erected then, In memory of his name; And there it stands, in wild waste lands, To testify the same. No. 34 THE COTTAGE THATCHED WITH STRAW F.W.B. [Music] 1 In the days of yore, there sat at his door, An old farmer and thus sang he, 'With my pipe and my glass, I wish every class On the earth were as well as me!' For he en-vi-ed not any man his lot, The richest, the proudest, he saw, For he had home-brew'd--brown bread, And a cottage well thatch'd with straw, A cottage well thatch'd with straw, And a cottage well thatch'd with straw; For he had home-brew'd, brown bread, And a cottage well thatch'd with straw. 2 'My dear old dad this snug cottage had, And he got it, I'll tell you how. He won it, I wot, with the best coin got, With the sweat of an honest brow. Then says my old dad, Be careful lad To keep out of the lawyer's claw. So you'll have home-brew'd--brown bread, And a cottage well thatch'd with straw. A cottage well thatch'd with straw, &c. 3 'The ragged, the torn, from my door I don't turn, But I give them a crust of brown; And a drop of good ale, my lad, without fail, For to wash the brown crust down. Tho' rich I may be, it may chance to me, That misfortune should spoil my store, So--I'd lack home-brew'd--brown bread, And a cottage well thatch'd with straw, A cottage well thatch'd with straw, &c. 4