Young Hunting
No: 68; variant: 68H
- 'HAIL well, hail well, my little foot-page,
Hail well this deed on me,
And ever I live my life to brook,
I'se pay thee well thy fee.'
- 'It's we'l beet him, and we'l spur him,
As gin he had been gain to ride,
Put a huntin-horn about his neck,
And a small sword by his side.
- 'And we'll carry him to Clyde's Water,
And there we'll fling him in,
That we may have it to be said
In Clyde's Water he drownd.'
- O they bet him, and they spurrd him,
As gin he had been gain to ride,
Pat a huntin-horn about his neck,
But the sword on his wrang side.
- And they hae carried him to Clyde's Water,
And there they flang him in,
That they might have it to be said
In Clyde's Water he drowned.
- 'It's we'll sen for the king's doukers,
And douk it up and doun;
It's we'll sen for the king's doukers,
And douk it out and in.'
- Out it spak a little wee birdie,
As it sat on yon burn-brae:
. . . . .
. . . . .
- 'Ye may lay by your day doukers,
And turn you to the night,
And where the innocent blood lies slain,
The candles will burn fou bricht.'
- O they hae brunt that gay ladie,
And blawn her in the air,
And nothing o that bower-man would burn
But the hands that buskd him rare.