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Young Hunting

SHE has calld to her her bower-maidens, She has calld them one by one: 'There is a dead man in my bower, I wish that he was gone.'
They have booted him, and spurred him, As he was wont to ride, A hunting-horn around his waist, A sharp sword by his side.
Then up and spake a bonie bird, That sat upon the tree: 'What hae ye done wi Earl Richard? Ye was his gay lady.'
'Cum down, cum down, my bonie bird, Cum sit upon my hand; And ye sall hae a cage o the gowd, Where ye hae but the wand.'
'Awa, awa, ye ill woman, Nae ill woman for me; What ye hae done to Earl Richard, Sae wad ye do to mee.'

'O there's a bird intill your bowir That sings sae sad and sweet; O there's a bird intill your bour Kept me frae my nicht's sleep.'

And she sware by the grass sae greene, Sae did she by the corn, That she had not seen Earl Richard Sen yesterday at morn.