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LORD RANDAL. 249
" Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my
son ? «
Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young
man?" " I dined wi' my true-love ; mother, make my bed
soon, For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie
down."—
" What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my
son ? What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young
man ? "— 10
f I gat eels boil'd in broo; mother, make my bed
soon, For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie
down."—
" What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my son ?
What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man ? "—
" O they swell'd and they died ; mother, make my bed soon, is
For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie ' down."—
"01 fear ye are poison'd, Lord Randal, my
son ! |
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