OR WALTONIAN CHRONICLE. 307 



THE LEA. 



SONG. THE LEA, THE LEA. 

 (TUNE.) " The Sea, the Sea." 



1. 



The Lea, the Lea, the roving Lea, 

 Few Anglers know its worth like me, 

 With many a mark, and many a hound 

 It ruimeth the level marshes round. 

 O'er bay it rolls, o'er sharp it flies, 

 Or in a still deep silent lies. 

 When by the Lea, when by the Lea, 

 I am where I would ever be, 

 With the hills above and thy stream below, 

 Delighted wheresoever I go ; 

 If a flood should come, and o'erwhelm thy deep, 

 No matter, no matter, I'll still by thee keep. 

 No matter, &c. 



2. 



On thy banks Oh how I love to bide, 

 And view thy rippling course with pride, 

 Ere the fluttering lark arising soon, 

 To whistle aloft his merry tune, 

 And leave the fisher pleased below 

 To find a south-west wind doth blow. 



