William Julius Mickle

The dews of summer night did fall, The moon, sweet regent of the sky, Silver'd the walls of Cumnor Hall, And many an oak that grew nearby.

His very foot has music in 't As he comes up the stairs.

The dews of summer nights did fall, The moon, sweet regent of the sky, Silvered the walls of Cumnor Hall And many an oak that grew thereby.

For there 's nae luck about the house, There 's nae luck at a'; There 's little pleasure in the house When our gudeman 's awa'.