‘His hounds they lie down at his feet,
So well they can their master keep;

‘His hawks they flie so eagerly,
There’s no fowl dare come him nigh.’

Down there comes a fallow doe
As great with young as she might goe.

She lift up his bloudy head
And kist his wounds that were so red.

She gat him up upon her back
And carried him to earthen lake.

She buried him before the prime,
She was dead herself ere evensong time.

God send every gentleman
Such hounds, such hawks, and such a leman.

390   The Twa Corbies

(SCOTTISH VERSION)

AS I was walking all alane
   I heard twa corbies¹ making a mane:
The tane unto the tither did say,
   ‘Whar sall we gang and dine the day?’

‘—In behint yon auld fail² dyke
   I wot there lies a new-slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there
   But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

‘His hound is to the hunting gane,
   His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady’s ta’en anither mate,
   So we may mak our dinner sweet.

‘Ye’ll sit on his white hause³-bane,
And I’ll pike out his bonny blue e’en:
Wi’ ae lock o’ his gowden hair
We’ll theek⁴ our nest when it grows bare.

‘Mony a one for him maks mane,
But nane sall ken whar he is gane:
O’er his white banes, when they are bare,
The wind sall blaw for evermair.’

391   A Lyke-Wake Dirge

THIS ae nighte, this ae nighte,
   —Every nighte and alle,
Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,
   And Christe receive thy saule.

When thou from hence away art past,
   —Every nighte and alle,
To Whinny-muir thou com’st at last;
   And Christe receive thy saule.

If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon,
   —Every nighte and alle,
Sit thee down and put them on;
   And Christe receive thy saule.

If hosen and shoon thou ne’er gav’st nane
   —Every nighte and alle,
The whinnes sall prick thee to the bare bane;
   And Christe receive thy saule.

From Whinny-muir when thou may’st pass,
   —Every nighte and alle,
To Brig o’ Dread thou com’st at last;
   And Christe receive thy saule.

From Brig o’ Dread when thou may’st pass,
   —Every nighte and alle,
To Purgatory fire thou com’st at last;
   And Christe receive thy saule.

If ever thou gavest meat or drink,
   —Every nighte and alle,
The fire sall never make thee shrink;
   And Christe receive thy saule.