Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Scottish ballads

220
And I wonder aye what aileth my mother,
To mourn continually ?"
" Nae wonder that your mother's cheeks
Ye seldom see them dry :
Nae wonder, nae wonder, my bonnie boy,
Though she should brast * and die.
For she was born a king's dauchter,
Of noble birth and fame ;
And now she is Hynde Etin's wife,
Wha ne'er gat Christendame.
But we'll shoot the laverock f in the lift, J:
The buntlin § on the tree ;
And ye'll tak them hame to your mother,
And see if blythe she'll be."
It fell upon another day,
Hynde Etin he thocht Jang ;
And he is to the gude greenwood,
As fast as he could gang.
Wi' bow and arrow by his side.
He's aff, single, alane ;
And left his seven bairns to stay,
Wi' their mother, at hame.
" I'll tell you, mother," quoth the auldest son,
An ye wadna angry be" —
" Speak on, speak on, my bonnie boy,
Ye'se nae be quarrelled by me."
" As we cam frae the hynd-hunting,
We heard fine music ring !"
* Burst. t Lark. t Sky.
§ Buntliiig.