AS I was walking all alane 
I heard twa corbies making a mane: 
The tane unto the tither did say, 
'Whar sall we gang and dine the day?' 

'--In behint yon auld fail dyke 
I wot there lies a new-slain knight; 
And naebody kens that he lies there 
But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair. 

'His hound is to the hunting gane, 
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, 
His lady 's ta'en anither mate, 
So we may mak our dinner sweet. 

'Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, 
And I'll pike out his bonny blue e'en: 
Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair 
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare. 

'Mony a one for him maks mane, 
But nane sall ken whar he is gane: 
O'er his white banes, when they are bare, 
The wind sall blaw for evermair.'