Sir Walter Scott: Brignall Banks
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Brignall Banks

1771-1832


O, BRIGNALL banks are wild and fair,
         And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather garlands there,
         Would grace a summer queen:
And as I rode by Dalton Hall,
         Beneath the turrets high,
A Maiden on the castle wall
         Was singing merrily:--

'O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
         And Greta woods are green!
I'd rather rove with Edmund there
         Than reign our English Queen.'

'If, Maiden, thou wouldst wend with me
         To leave both tower and town,
Thou first must guess what life lead we,
         That dwell by dale and down:
And if thou canst that riddle read,
         As read full well you may,
Then to the green-wood shalt thou speed
         As blithe as Queen of May.'

Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are fair,
         And Greta woods are green!
I'd rather rove with Edmund there
         Than reign our English Queen.

'I read you by your bugle horn
         And by your palfrey good,
I read you for a Ranger sworn
         To keep the King's green-wood.'
'A Ranger, Lady, winds his horn,
         And 'tis at peep of light;
His blast is heard at merry morn,
         And mine at dead of night.'

Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are fair,
         And Greta woods are gay!
I would I were with Edmund there,
         To reign his Queen of May!

'With burnish'd brand and musketoon
         So gallantly you come,
I read you for a bold Dragoon,
         That lists the tuck of drum.'
'I list no more the tuck of drum,
         No more the trumpet hear;
But when the beetle sounds his hum,
         My comrades take the spear.

'And O! though Brignall banks be fair,
         And Greta woods be gay,
Yet mickle must the maiden dare,
         Would reign my Queen of May!

'Maiden! a nameless life I lead,
         A nameless death I'll die;
The fiend whose lantern lights the mead
         Were better mate than I!
And when I'm with my comrades met
         Beneath the green-wood bough,
What once we were we all forget,
         Nor think what we are now.'

Chorus. Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
         And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather flowers there
         Would grace a summer queen.


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