Anonymous

As I was walking all alane	 
I heard twa corbies making a mane;	                           ravens/moan
The tane unto the t'other say,	 
‘Where sall we gang and dine to-day?’	 
  
‘—In behint yon auld fail dyke,                                        wall of turf	        
I wot there lies a new-slain knight;                                   know	 
And naebody kens that he lies there,	 
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.	 
  
‘His hound is to the hunting gane,	 
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,	
His lady's ta'en another mate,	 
So we may make our dinner sweet.	 
  
‘Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,	                                    neck-bone 
And I'll pick out his bonnie blue een;	 
Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair	 
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare                            thatch	 
  
‘Mony a one for him makes mane,	 
But nane sall ken where he is gane;	 
O'er his white banes, when they are bare,	 
The wind sall blaw for evermair.’    

Scotland - traditional