Why are you so bare, so bare, Oh, of the old oak-tree;
And why, when I go through the shade you throw,
Runs a over me?
My leaves were green as the best, I trow,
And sap ran free in my
But I saw in the weird
And set him fast in
And he raised his hand to the sky;
But the beat of hoofs on his ear,
And the steady tread drew night.
Who is it rides by night, by night,
Over the moonlit road?
And what is eeps the pace,
What is?
And now they beat at the door,
We are friends of him whom you hold within,
And we would take him away
From those who ride fast on our
With mind to do him wrong
They have no care for his innocence,
And the rope they bear is long.
From the of a man.
And ever the judge rides by, rides by,