I Her eyes are wild, her head is bare, The sun has burnt her coal-black hair; Her eyebrows have a rusty stain, And she came far from over the main. She has a baby on her arm, Or else she were alone: And underneath the hay-stack warm, And on the greenwood stone, She talked and sung the woods among, And it was in the English tongue. II "Sweet babe! they say that I am mad But nay, my heart is far too glad; And I am happy when I sing Full many a sad and ...

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