As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies makin' a mane.
The tane intae the tither did say,
'Whaur sall we gang and dine the day?'

'It's in ahint you auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new slain knight,
An naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk and his hound and his lady fair.

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

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

'There's mony a ane for him maks mane,
But nane sall ken whaur he is gane,
O'er his white banes when they are bare,
The wind sall blaw for evenmair.'