III
‘What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?
What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?’—
‘I gat eels boil’d in broo’; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’
‘What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?
What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?’—
‘I gat eels boil’d in broo’; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’