'An earl's daughter was your mother dear, and if I had not stolen her away one bonny night in May she might have wedded a knight of high degree.
'The forester of Elmond wood was I, yet as I saw her standing by the white-thorn tree I loved her well. And ere many days had gone by thy mother loved me too, and I carried her away to our greenwood home.
'Dear to your mother are her seven little sons, dear to her, too, am I. Yet oft will the tears run down her cheek as she dreams of her old home and her father the earl.'
Then upward glanced the little wee son as he cried aloud, 'I will shoot the linnet there on the tree and the larks as they wing their flight, and I will carry them home to my mother dear that she may weep no more.'
Yet neither with linnet nor with lark could her little wee son woo the smiles back to his dear mother's face.
Now a day came when Hynde Etin in his greenwood home thought the hours passed but slow, and that same day he took his gun and his dog and off he went alone to hunt. His seven little wee sons he left at home with their mother.
'Mother,' said the eldest little son, 'mother, will ye be angry with me an I tell you what I heard?'
'Nay now, my little wee son,' said she, 'I will never be cross with you.'
'I heard the church bells ring as I went hunting over the hill, mother. Clear did they ring and sweet.'
'Ah, would I had heard them too, my little dear son,' cried Margaret, 'for never have I been in the holy church for twelve long years and more, and never have I taken my seven bonny sons to be christened, as indeed I would they were. In the holy church will my father be, and there would I fain go too.'