The roses and the lilies all a-blowing.
THE AVENGING SWORD
Sir Peter he rode to the castle stout,
The King o’ the Danes he stood without.
(Forward, hurrah! ride forward.)
“Welcome hither, my comrade good!
Hast thou avenged thy father’s blood?”
“Oh, I have been so southerly
Until the sun sank down to me.
“And I have been so westerly
Until the sun set close to me.
“And I have been so northerly
Until the sun was frore to see.
“And I have been so easterly
Until the day was fair to see.
“But never could I find the wight
My father’s death could rede me right.”
“Say, what gift wilt give the wight
Thy father’s death can rede thee right?”