OH! young Lochinvar has come out of the West,

Thro' all the wide border his horse has no equal,

Having cost him forty-five dollars at the market,

Where good nags, fresh from the country,

With burrs still in their tails are selling

For a song; and save his good broadsword

He weapon had none, except a seven shooter

Or two, a pair of brass knuckles, and an Arkansaw

Toothpick in his boot, so, comparatively speaking,

He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone,

Because there was no one going his way.

He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for

Toll-gates; he swam the Eske River where ford

There was none, and saved fifteen cents

In ferriage, but lost his pocket-book, containing

Seventeen dollars and a half, by the operation.

Ere he alighted at the Netherby mansion

He stopped to borrow a dry suit of clothes,

He arrived the bride had consented—the gallant

Came late—for a laggard in love and a dastard in war

Was to wed the fair Ellen, and the guests had assembled.

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall

Among bridesmen and kinsmen and brothers and

Brothers-in-law and forty or fifty cousins;

Then spake the bride's father, his hand on his sword

(For the poor craven bridegroom ne'er opened his head):

“Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in anger,

Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?"

“I long wooed your daughter, and she will tell you

I have the inside track in the free-for-all

For her affections! My suit you denied; but let

That pass, while I tell you, old fellow, that love

Swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide,

And now I am come with this lost love of mine

To lead but one measure, drink one glass of beer;

There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far

That would gladly be bride to yours very truly."

The bride kissed the goblet, the knight took it up,

He quaffed off the nectar and threw down the mug,

Smashing it into a million pieces, while

He remarked that he was the son of a gun

From Seven-up and run the Number Nine.

She looked down to blush, but she looked up again

He took her soft hand ere her mother could

Interfere, “Now tread we a measure; first four

Half right and left; swing," cried young Lochinvar.

One touch to her hand and one word in her ear,

When they reached the hall-door and the charger

Stood near on three legs eating post-hay;

So light to the croup the fair lady he swung,

Then leaped to the saddle before her.

“She is won! we are gone! over bank! bush, and spar,

They'll have swift steeds that follow"—but in the

Excitement of the moment he had forgotten

To untie the horse, and the poor brute could

Only gallop in a little circus around the

Hitching-post; so the old gent collared

The youth and gave him the awfullest lambasting

That was ever heard of on Canobie Lee;

So dauntless in war and so daring in love,

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?