Ned Ludd Part 1 (Inclosure)

Ye commons lay free in the rude rags of nature Ye brown heaths be clothed in furs as ye be My wild eye in rapture adores every feature Ye are as dear as this heart in my bosom, to me O native endearments I would not forsake thee I would not forsake thee for sweetest of scenes Foe sweetest of gardens that nature could make me I would not forsake thee, dear valleys and greens The injured fiеlds that once were gay Whеre nature's hand displayed Long waving rows of willows gray And clumps of hawthorn shade Though nature ne'er dropped thee a cloud resting mountain Nor waterfalls tumble their music so free Had nature denied ye a bush, tree or fountain Ye still had been loved, loved as an Eden by me But now, alas, your hawthorn bowers All desolate we see The spoilers' axe, their shade devours And cuts down every tree