And he is to the hunting gane,
Took wi' him his dog and gun.
Wi' bow and arrow by his side,
He's off, single, alane;
And left his seven children to stay
Wi' their mither at hame.
"O, I will tell to you, mither,
Gin ye wadna angry be:"
"Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy,
Ye se na be quarrelled by me."