Late last night when the squire come home,
inquiring for his lady
Some denied and some replied,
She's gone with the Black Jack Davy.
Go saddle to me the bonny brown steed,
for the grey was ne'er so speedy.
I'll ride all day and I'll ride all night
til I catch that Black Jack Davy.
And he rode up hill and he rode down dale
over many a wild high mountain
And they did say that saw him go,
Black Jack Davy he is hunting.
The mist was rising from the Berdshall road, and the mare shifting behind the hedge was restless on her feet in the soggy ground. The green coated man leaned down over her neck to pet her, slapping her brown neck quietly.