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LORD RENDAL, by                    
First Line: "o where have you been, lord rendal my son"
Last Line: For I'm wearied with hunting and fain would lie down
Variant Title(s): Lord Randal


"O where have you been, Lord Rendal my son,"
O where have you been, my jolly young man?'
"In yonder wild woods, mother; make my bed soon,
For I'm wearied with hunting and fain would lie down.'
"And whom met you there, Lord Rendal my son,
And whom met you there, my jolly young man?'
"I met with my true love, mother; make my bed soon,
For I'm wearied with hunting and fain would lie down.'
"What got you for dinner, Lord Rendal my son,
What got you for dinner, my jolly young man?'
"A dish of small fishes, mother; make my bed soon,
For I'm wearied with hunting and fain would lie down.'
"What like were the fishes, Lord Rendal my son,
What like were the fishes, my jolly young man?'
"Black backs and speckled bellies: make my bed soon,
For I'm wearied with hunting and fain would lie down.'
"Who got the leavings, Lord Rendal my son,
Who got the leavings, my jolly young man?'
"My hawks and my hounds, mother; make any bed soon,
For I'm wearied with hunting and fain would lie down.'
"And what became of them, Lord Rendal my son,
And what became of them, my jolly young man?'
"They swelled and died, mother; make my bed soon,
For I'm wearied with hunting and fain would lie down.'
"I fear you are poisoned, Lord Rendal my son,
I fear you are poisoned, my jolly young man.'
"O yes I am dying, mother; make my bed soon,
For I'm wearied with hunting and fain would lie down.'
"What will you leave to your mother, Lord Rendal my son,
What will you leave to your mother, my jolly young man?'
"Four and twenty milch-kine, mother; make my bed soon,
For I'm wearied with hunting and fain would lie down.'
"What will you leave to your father, Lord Rendal my son,
What will you leave to your father, my jolly young man?'
"My horse and the saddle, mother; make my bed soon,
For I'm wearied with hunting and fain would lie down.'
"What will you leave to your sister, Lord Rendal my son,
What will you leave to your sister, my jolly young man?'
"Both my gold box and rings, mother; make my bed soon,
For I'm wearied with hunting and fain would lie down.'
"What will you leave to your true love, Lord Rendal my son,
What will you leave to your true love, my jolly young man?'
"The tow and the halter, mother; make my bed soon,
For I'm wearied with hunting and fain would lie down.'






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