"I read you by your bugle-horn
And by your palfrey good,
I read you for a ranger sworn
To keep the King's greenwood."
"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!