AS I was walking all alane I heard twa corbies making a mane: The tane unto the tither did say, 'Whar sall we gang and dine the day?' '--In behint yon auld fail dyke I wot there lies a new-slain knight; And naebody kens that he lies there But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair. 'His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady 's ta'en anither mate, So we may mak our dinner sweet. 'Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pike out his bonny blue e'en: Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair We'll theek our nest when it grows bare. 'Mony a one for him maks mane, But nane sall ken whar he is gane: O'er his white banes, when they are bare, The wind sall blaw for evermair.'