Chapter 57 THE OUTLAW

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 Ed