Young Hunting (Child 68H)

'Hail well, hail well, my little foot-page,
Hail well this deed on me,
And ever I live my life to brook,
I'se pay thee well thy fee.'

'It's we'l beet him, and we'l spur him,
As gin he had been gain to ride,
Put a huntin-horn about his neck,
And a small sword by his side.

'And we'll carry him to Clyde's Water,
And there we'll fling him in,
That we may have it to be said
In Clyde's Water he drownd.'

O they bet him, and they spurrd him,
As gin he had been gain to ride,
Pat a huntin-horn about his neck,
But the sword on his wrang side.

And they hae carried him to Clyde's Water,
And there they flang him in,
That they might have it to be said
In Clyde's Water he drowned.

'It's we'll sen for the king's doukers,
And douk it up and doun;
It's we'll sen for the king's doukers,
And douk it out and in.'

Out it spak a little wee birdie,
As it sat on yon burn-brae:

'Ye may lay by your day doukers,
And turn you to the night,
And where the innocent blood lies slain,
The candles will burn fou bricht.'

O they hae brunt that gay ladie,
And blawn her in the air,
And nothing o that bower-man would burn
But the hands that buskd him rare.