As I down Raby Park did pass,
I heard a fair maid weep and wail,
The chiefest of her song it was,
Farewell the sweets of Langley Dale.
The bonny mavis cheers his love,
The throstlecock sings in the glen;
But I must never hope to rove
Within the sweet Langley Dale again.
The wild-rose blushes in the brae,
The primrose shows its blossom pale;
But I must bid adieu for aye,
To all the joys of Langley Dale.
The days of mirth and peace are fled,
Youth’s golden locks to silver turn;
Each northern flowret droops its head
By Marwood Chase and Langley Burn.
False Southrons crop each lovely flower,
And throw their blossoms to the gale;
Our foes have spoilt the sweetest bower--
Alas! for bonny Langley Dale.