“O, ladye fair,” said the gallant Hildebrande,
“When twelve lang months shall flee,
Come ye then through the mossy glen
Adown by the trysting-tree.
“When the wearie year brings Hallowe’en
Ance mair to this lo’ed land,
An’ if thou wilt come at midnight’s hour
Thou shalt hear of thine own Hildebrande.”
O, the wintry wind blaws sair and chill,
An’ it whistles fu’ mournfully,