But oh, what dule an sorrow
Was about that lord’s ha,
When he fand his lady lyin
As white as driven snaw!
22
O what dule an sorrow
Whan that good lord cam in,
An fand his young son murderd,
I the chimley lyin!
92. kane. kame, B 132. But cf. wand, A 162 J 102, M 32.