old nurse who was a native of "the dales." These I think have probably
formed a part of this composition. The woman's name was curiously
enough Martha Kendal; and, in all probability, her forebears had
migrated from that place into Yorkshire:--

"Robin a devil he sware a vow.
He swore by the _sticks_[2] in hell--
By the _yelding_ that crackles to mak the _low_[3],
That warms his _namsack_[4] weel.

"He _leaped_ on his beast, and he rode with heaste,
To _mak_ his black oath good;
'Twas the Lord's Day, and the folk did pray
And the priest in _can_cel stood.

"The door was wide, and in does he ride,
In his clanking _gear_ so gay;
A long keen brand he held in his hand,
Our Dickon for to slay.

"But Dickon goodhap he was not there,
And Robin he rode in vain,
And the men got up that were kneeling in prayer,
To take him by might and main.

"Rob swung his sword, his steed he spurred,
He plunged right through the thr_a_ng.
But the stout smith Jock, with his old mother's _crutch_[5],
He gave him a _woundy_ bang.