As I was walking all alane
I heard twa corbies makin a mane
The tane unto the ither did say
Whar sall we gang and dine the-day?
Doun by yon auld fail dyke
There lies a new slain knight
And nane do ken that he lies there
But his hound, his hawk an his lady fair
His hound is tae the huntin gane,
His hawk tae fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady’s tain anither mate,
So we may mak oor dinner swate
Ye’ll sit on his white hause-bane
And I’ll pike oot his bonny blue een
Wi ae lock o his yellow hair
We’ll theek oor nest whan it grows bare
Mony a one for him makes mane,
But nane sall ken whar he is gane;
Oer his white banes, whan they are bare
The wind sall blaw for evermair