"O, I will tell to you, mither,
Gin ye wadna angry be:"
"Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy,
80 Ye'se nae be quarrell'd by me."
"As we came frae the hynd hunting,
We heard fine music ring:"
"My blessings on you, my bonny boy,
I wish I'd been there my lane."
85 He's ta'en his mither by the hand,
His six brithers also,
And they are on thro' Elmond's-wood,
As fast as they coud go.
They wistna weel where they were gaen,
90 Wi' the stratlins o' their feet;
They wistna weel where they were gaen,
Till at her father's yate.
"I hae nae money in my pocket,
But royal rings hae three;
95 I'll gie them you, my little young son,
And ye'll walk there for me.
"Ye'll gi'e the first to the [proud porter],
And he will lat you in;
Ye'll gi'e the next to the butler boy,
100 And he will show you ben;
"Ye'll gi'e the third to the minstrel
That plays before the king;
He'll play success to the bonny boy
Came thro' the wood him lane."
105 He ga'e the first to the proud porter,
And he open'd an' let him in;
He ga'e the next to the butler boy,
And he has shown him ben;
He ga'e the third to the minstrel
110 That play'd before the king;
And he play'd success to the bonny boy
Came thro' the wood him lane.