Hal the Woodman

Stay traveler, tarry here to-night,
The rain still beats the wind is loud,
The moon too hath withdrawn her light,
And gone to sleep behind a cloud.

?Tis seven long miles across the moor;
And should you from out cottage stray,
You?ll meet, I fear, no friendly door,
No one to tell you the ready way.

Come dearest Kate, the meal prepare.
This stranger stall partake our best;
A cake and raser be his fare,
With ale, that makes the wretched blest.

Approach the hearth, there take thy place;
And till the hour of rest draws nigh,
Of Robin Hood, and Chevy Chace,
We?ll sing; then to our pallets hie.

Had I means, I?d use you well;
?Tis little I have got to boast;
But should you of our cottage tell,
Say, Hal the Woodman was your host.