There were twa corbies sat on a tree,
Large and black as black might be,
And one until the other gan say,
“Where shall we gang and dine to-day?
Shall we dine by the wild saut sea?
Shall we dine 'neath the greenwood tree?

“As I sat on the deep sea sand,
I saw a fair ship nigh at land;
I waved my wings, I beat my beak,
The ship sunk, and I heard a shriek;
There they lie—one, two, and three;—
I shall dine by the wild saut sea.”

“Come, I will show ye a sweeter sight,
A lonesome glen, and a new-slain knight;
His blood yet on the grass is hot,
His sword half drawn, his shafts unshot,—
And no one knows 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 away with another mate,
So we shall make our dinner sweet;
Our dinner's sure, our feasting free,
Come, and dine 'neath the greenwood tree.

“Ye shall sit on his white hause-bane,
I will pick out his bonny blue een;
Ye'll take a tress of his yellow hair,
To theek your nest when it grows bare;
The gowden down on his young chin
Will do to row my young ones in!

“O! cauld and bare his bed will be,
When winter's storms sing in the tree;
At his head a turf, at his feet a stone,
He will sleep, nor hear the maiden's moan;
O'er his white bones the birds shall fly,
The wild deer bound, and foxes cry!”