The Mountains of Pomeroy
The morn was breaking bright and fair, the lark sang in the sky
When the maid, she combed her golden hair with a blythe glance in her eye
For who beyond the gay, green wood was awaiting her with joy
Oh who but the gallant Renardine on the mountains of Pomeroy
Full often in the dawning hour, full oft in twilight brown
He met the maid in the woodland bower where the stream comes foaming down
For they were faithful in a love no wars could e'er destroy
No tyrant's law touched Renardine on the mountains of Pomeroy
An outlawed man in a land forlorn He scorned to turn and fly But kept the cause of freedom safe On the mountains of Pomeroy.
"Dear love," she said, "I'm so afraid for the foeman's force and you
For they've tracked you in the lowland plain and all the valley through
My kinsmen frown when you are named, your life they would destroy
'Beware,' they say, 'of Renardine on the mountains of Pomeroy'"
"Fear not, fear not, my love," he cried, "Fear not the foe for me
No chains shall fall whate'er betide on the arm that will be free
Oh leave your cruel kin and come when the lark is in the sky
And it's with my gun I'll guard you on the mountains of Pomeroy"
The morn has come, she rose and fled from her cruel kin and home
And bright the woods, and rosy-red was the tumbling torrent's foam
But the mist came down, and the tempest roared and did all around destroy
And the pale drowned bride met Renardine on the mountains of Pomeroy