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_The fiddler plays, and his daughter sings_.

For Exmoor--
For Exmoor, where the red deer run, my weary heart
doth cry.
She that will a rover wed, far her foot shall his.
Narrow, narrow, shows the street, dull the narrow sky.
_(Buy my cherries, whiteheart cherries, good my masters_,
_buy_.)
For Exmoor--
O he left me, left alone, aye to think and sigh,
'Lambs feed down yon sunny coombe, hind and yearling
shy,
Mid the shrouding vapours walk now like ghosts on high.'
(_Buy my cherries, blackheart cherries, lads and lassies, buy_.)
For Exmoor--
Dear my dear, why did ye so? Evil days have I,
Mark no more the antler'd stag, hear the curlew cry.
Milking at my father's gate while he leans anigh.
(_Buy my cherries, whiteheart, blackheart, golden girls, O buy._)

_Mrs. T. (aside)._ I've known him play that Exmoor
song afore.
'Ah me! and I'm from Exmoor. I could wish
To hear 't no more.
_Mrs. S. (aside)._ Neighbours, 't is mighty hot.


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