O dear son, tell to me.’

‘It is the blude of my gay gosshawk,

He wadna flee for me.’ 65

‘O thy hawk’s blude was ne’er sae red,

Nor e’er sae dear to me:

O what blude’s this upon your dirk?

Dear Willie, tell to me.’

‘It is the blude of my ae brother, 70

O dule and wae is me!’

‘O what will ye say to your father,