XXXII
THE TWA CORBIES
As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane:
The tane unto the tither say,
'Where sail we gang and dine the day?'
'In behint yon auld fail 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 another mate, Sae we may mak' our dinner sweet.
Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pike out his bonny blue e'en: Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair We'll thcek our nest when it grows bare.
Mony a one for him makes mane, But nane sail ken where he is gane: O'er his white banes, when they are bare, The wind sail blaw for evermair.'
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