Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Harp of Renfrewshire

" Come back, Syr Hew, my kniclit of grace, and come
hither my trusty fere ;
For thou hast wan a gudely fee, though nae lerges ye mote
spere :
Oh, three woundis were on your britheris face, and three
abune his knee,
But the deepest wound was throu his hert, and that was
gi'en be thee."
Ilk ane has heard the lonsum voyce, for it was schil and hie ;
Ilk ane has heard its eerie skreich as it gaed souning by ;
Yet mervaillous dul that lodge dois seem, and bot anie bruit
or din ;
Nae Hand wicht dois herbour here bot an that voyce within.
And everie knicht has turnit him round to leave that
hauntit ha',
And muntit on his swelterand stede, and pricket richt sune
awa';
And quhan this gallant cumpanye auld Askelon had nearit.
The wan mune had gane fra the lift, and the grai daylight
apperit.
Then did they count thair numberis, and they countit wyse
and true,
And everilk ane was thair convenit bot an the dark Syr
Hew;
But in the press his horse was kythit wi' aue saddil toom and
bare ;
Och and alace, its maister sure liggis in som lanelie lair.
Back hae thay ridden league and myl, but nevir Syr Hew
thai see ;
Back hae thay ridden league and myl, til quhare that lodge
suld be ;