It fell out ance upon a day He’s to the hunting gane, And a’ to carry his game for him He’s tane his eldest son. IX ‘A question I will ask, father, Gin ye wadna angry be.’-- ‘Say on, say on, my bonny boy, Ye’se nae be quarrell’d by me.’ X ‘I see my mither’s cheeks aye weet, I never can see them dry; And I wonder what aileth my mither To mourn [sae constantly].’-- XI ‘Your mither was a king’s daughtèr, Sprung frae a high degree; She might hae wed some worthy prince Had she na been stown[264] by me. XII ‘Your mither was a king’s daughtèr Of noble birth and fame, But now she’s wife o’ Hynd Etin, Wha ne’er gat christendame. XIII ‘But we’ll shoot the buntin’ o’ the bush, The linnet o’ the tree, And ye’se tak’ them hame to your dear mither, See if she’ll merrier be.’ XIV It fell upon anither day, He’s to the hunting gane And left his seven [young] children To stay wi’ their mither at hame. XV ‘O I will tell to you, mither, Gin ye wadna angry be.’-- ‘Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy, Ye’se nae be quarrell’d by me.’-- XVI ‘As we came frae the hind-hunting, We heard fine music ring.’-- ‘My blessings on you, my bonny boy, I wish I’d been there my lane.’ XVII They wistna weel where they were gaen, Wi’ the stratlins[265] o’ their feet; They wistna weel where they were gaen, Till at her father’s yate[266]. XVIII ‘I hae nae money in my pocket, But royal rings hae three; I’ll gie them you, my little young son, And ye’ll walk there for me. XIX ‘Ye’ll gi’e the first to the proud portèr And he will let you in; Ye’ll gi’e the next to the butler-boy And he will show you ben[267]; XX ‘Ye’ll gi’e the third to the minstrel That plays before the King; He’ll play success to the bonny boy Came thro’ the wood him lane.’ XXI He ga’e the first to the proud portèr And he open’d and let him in; He ga’e the next to the butler-boy, And he has shown him ben. XXII He ga’e the third to the minstrel That play’d before the King, And he play’d success to the bonny boy Came thro’ the wood him lane. XXIII Now when he came before the King, Fell low upon his knee; The King he turn’d him round about, And the saut tear blint[268] his e’e. XXIV ‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy, Gang frae my companie; Ye look sae like my dear daughtèr, My heart will burst in three.’-- XXV ‘If I look like your dear daughtèr, A wonder it is none; If I look like your dear daughtèr, I am her eldest son.’-- XXVI