Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, YOUNG HUNTING (1), by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

YOUNG HUNTING (1), by                    
First Line: "o lady, rock never your young son young"
Last Line: She burnt like holly gren
Subject(s): Murder


O Lady, rock never your young son young
One hour longer for me,
For I have a sweethart in Garlicks wells
I love thrice better than thee.
The very sols of my Loves feet
Is whiter than thy face;
But never the less na, young Hunting,
Ye'l stay wi' me all night.
She has birl'd in him young Hunting
The good ale and the beer
Till he was as fou drucken
As any wild wood steer.
She has birl'd in him young Hunting
The good ale and the wine
Till he was as fou drunken
As any wild wood swine.
Up she has ta'in him young Hunting
And she has had him to her bed;
And she has minded her on a little penknife
That hangs low down by her gore
An she has gi'n him young Hunting
A deep wound and a sore.
Out an' spake the bonny bird
That flew abon her head:
Lady keep well th[y] green clothing
Fra that good Lords blood.
O better I'll keep my green clothing
Fra that good Lords blood
Nor thou can keep thy flottering toung
That flotters in thy head.
Light down, light down my bonny bird,
Light down upon my hand:
O Siller, O Siller shall be thy hire
An' goud shall be thy fee,
An' every month into the year
Thy cage shall changed bee.
I winna light down, I shanna light down,
I winna light on thy hand,
For soon, soon wad ye do to me
As ye done to young Hunting.
She has booted and spir'd him, young Hunting,
As he had been gan to ride,
A hunting horn about his neck
An' the sharp sourd by his side;
An' she has had him to yon wan water
For a' man calls it Clyde.
The deepest pot intill it all
She has puten young Hunting in,
A green truff upon his breast
To hold that good Lord down.
It fell ance upon a day
The king was going to ride,
And he sent for him young Hunting
To ride on his right side.
She has turn'd her right and round about,
She sware now by the corn:
I saw na thy son young Hunting
Sen yesterday at morn.
She has turn'd her right and round about,
She swear now by the moon:
I saw na thy son young Hunting
Sen yesterday at noon.
It fears me sair in Clyds water
That he is droun'd therein.
O thay ha' sent for the king's duckers
To duck for young Hunting.
Thay ducked in at the tae water bank,
Thay ducked out at the tither:
We'll duck no more for young Hunting
All tho' he wear our brother.
Out an' speake the bonny bird
That flew abon their heads:
O he is na drown'd in Clyds water,
He is slain and put therein;
The Lady that lives in yon castel
Slew him and put him in.
Leave off your ducking on the day
And duck upon the night;
Whear ever that sakeless knight lys slain
The candels will shine bright.
They left off their ducking on the day
And ducked upon the night,
And whare that sackless knight lay slain
The candels shone full bright.
The deepest pot intill it a'
They got young Hunting in,
A green turff upon his brest
To hold that good Lord down.
O thay ha' sent aff men to the wood
To hew down baith thorn an' fern
That thay might get a great bonefier
To burn that Lady in.
Put na the wyte on me, she says,
It was her, may Catheren.
When thay had tane her may Catheren,
In the bonefier set her in,
It wad na take upon her cheeks
Nor take upon her chin
Nor yet upon her yallow hair
To healle the deadly sin.
Out thay ha' ta'in her may Catheren
An' thay hay put that Lady in:
O it took upon her cheek, her cheek,
An' it took upon her chin
An' it took on her fair body;
She burnt like holly gren.






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