‘Oh where ha’e ye been, Lord Randal my son?
O where ha’e ye been, my handsome young man?’
‘I have been to the wild wood: mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

‘Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randall my son?
Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?’
‘I dined wi’ my true love; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

‘What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal my son?
What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?’
‘I gat a dish o’ wee fishes; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

'What like were the fishes, Lord Randal, my son?
'What like were the fishes, my handsome young man?'
'Black-backs and speckle bellies; mother, make my bed soon
For I’m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

‘What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randal my son?
What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?’
‘O they swelld and they died: mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

‘O I fear ye are poisond, Lord Randal my son!
O I fear ye are poisond, my handsome young man!’
‘O yes, I am poisond: mother, make my bed soon,
‘For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’ 

Anonymous - Traditional Scotland

 = Wayne Vargas