Now this dear soul ne'er did control, Nor think that man no ill then; But to Dalton Brook his mind was struck, While his clear blood did spill then; For help he cried, but was denied, No one there nigh him stood then; And there he lay till break of day, Dogs licking his dear blood then. Farewell dear heart, now we must part, From wife and children dear then; Pity my doom, it was too soon, That ever I came here then; Farewell unto the brave dear lads Whoever range the fields then, This cruel man's murdering hand, Has caused me for to yield then. In grief and pain till death it came, To embrace his dear soul then, Who took its flight to heaven straight, Where no man can control them. The country round heard of the sound, Of poor Brown's blood being spilt then, 'Twas put in vogue to find the rogue, That justice might be done then. With irons strong they march'd along Unto York castle fair then; In a dark cell was doom'd to dwell, Till the judge he did appear then; George Miller bold, as I've been told, Deny it here who can then, He ne'er was loth to take his oath, Brown was a murder'd man then. There was a man who there did stand, Whose heart did shake amain then; But gold did fly they can't deny, Or at Tyburn he'd been hung then. They'd ne'er been bold to hear it told To hear of Shirtly's doom then. The judge put it off to God on high, Or they might have judged him soon then. There was brave Ned Greaves never did fail, To crown poor Bill Brown's name then, George Miller brave defies each knave, That travels o'er the plain then; With sword and gun now we will run, Though the law it doth maintain them, Yet poor Brown's blood lost in the wood For vengeance cries amain then. THE ROMANBY TRAGEDY.