Cold Case?

The Twa Corbies        Anonymous

 

As I was walking all alane,

I heard twa corbies makin’ a mane:

The tane unto 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.

 

Many a one for him maks mane,

But nane shall ken whar he is gane:

O’er his white banes, when they are bare,

The wind sall blaw for evermair.’

 

Corbies-crows: fail-turf: hause-bane-

Collar-bone: theek-thatch

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