As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the t’other say,
“Where sall we gang and dine to-day?”
“In behint yon auld fail[A] dyke,
“I wot there lies a new slain knight;
“And nae body kens that he lies
there,
“But his hawk, his hound, and lady
fair.
“His hound is to the hunting gane,
“His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl
hame,
“His lady’s ta’en another
mate,
“So we may mak our dinner sweet.
“Ye’ll sit on his white hause
bane,
“And I’ll pike out his bonny
blue een:
“Wi’ ae lock o’ his
gowden hair,
“We’ll theek[B] our nest when
it grows bare.
“Mony a one for him makes mane,
“But nane sall ken whare he is gane:
“O’er his white banes, when
they are bare,
“The wind sall blaw for evermair.”
[Footnote A: Fail—Turf.]
[Footnote B: Theek—Thatch.]
