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poet

Anonymous

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by this poet

poem
There was a lady dwelt in York:
Fal the dal the di do,
She fell in love with her father's clerk,
Down by the green wood side.

She laid her hand against a stone,
Fal the dal the di do,
And there she made most bitter moan,
Down by the green wood side.

She took a knife both long and
poem
My dress is silent when I tread the ground 
Or stay at home or stir upon the waters.
Sometimes my trappings and the lofty air
Raise me above the dwelling-place of men,
And then the power of clouds carries me far
Above the people; and my ornaments
Loudly resound, send forth a melody
And clearly sing, when I am
poem
   "Oh where ha'e ye been, Lord Randall my son?
O where ha'e ye been, my handsome young man?"
     "I ha'e been to the wild wood: mother, make my bed soon,
     For I’m weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."

   "Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randall my son?
Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man