Hey there! My name's Michael. This is one of my favorite pieces and one I sing in performances. I learned this from the singing of John Faulkner from a recording he made with Dolores Keane, called Brokenhearted I'll Wander. It's a fantastic recording. I highly recommend it. Here are the lyrics as I hear them. (I've marked words or phrases I am unclear on with a "?"

I am a bold young highway man, My name is Tyne of Harrow; I come from poor but honest folk Near to the Hills of Yarrow. For getting of a maid with child, For England I sailed over; I left me parents and became A wild and daring rover.

Straight to London I did go Where I became a soldier; Resolved to fight Britannia's foes, No sergeant-at-arms was bolder. They shipped me to a foreign shore, Where cannon loud did rattle; Believe me, boys, I do not boast, How I behaved in battle.

Many's the battle I fought in, In Holland & French Flanders; I always fought with a courage keen, Led on by brave commanders. But a cruel ensign called me out, And I was flogged and carted; Cruel the usage that I got, And so I soon deserted.

Straight to England I set sail, As fast as wind could heave me, Resolved that of my liberty, That no one should deprive me. I slipped into the woods at night, By all my friends forsaken; I dare not walk the roads by day, For fear I should be taken.

But being of a courage keen, And likewise able-bodied, I robbed Lord Lambs (?) on the King's Highway, With pistols heavy-loaded; I clapped the pistols to his breast, Which set his heart a-quiver; Five hundred pound in ready gold, To me he did deliver.

With part of my new store of wealth, I bought a famous gelding, That over a five bar gate could jump, I bought him from Ned Fielding. Lord Arkenstone into his coach (?), I robbed at Covent Garden; And two hours later that same night, I robbed the Earl of Warren.

One night I robbed at Turnum (?) Green, A revenue collector; And what I got I gave it to A widow to protect her. I always robbed the rich and great, To rob the poor I scorn-ed. And now in iron chains I'm bound, In doom I now lie mourn-ed.

It's now in Newgate I'm confined, And by the laws convicted; To hang on Tyebourne (?) Tree's my fate, At which I'm much a-frighted. Farewell me friends and countrymen, And me native Hills of Yarrow; Kind Providence shall test the soul Of Allan Tyne of Harrow.

It's a lovely ballad, but it's on the long side. Good luck with it and enjoy! Michael Carr.