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TOUNG HUNTING. 299
Then they ha'e call'd her, Lady Katharine,
And she sware by the thorn, That she saw not him, young Hunting,
Sin' yesterday at morn.
Then they ha'e call'd her, Lady Maisry, 105
And she sware by the moon, That she saw not him, young Hunting,
Sin' yesterday at noon.
" He was playing him at the Clyde's water, Perhaps he has fa'en in:" no
The king he call'd his divers all, To dive for his young son.
They div'd in thro' the wan burn-bank,
Sae did they out thro' the other: " We'll dive nae mair," said these young men, lis
" Suppose he were our brother."
Then out it spake a little bird,
That flew aboon their head: " Dive on, dive on, ye divers all,
For there he lies indeed. 130
" But ye'll leave aff your day diving,
And ye'll dive in the night; The pot where young Hunting lies in,
The candles they'll burn bright.
" There are twa ladies in yon bower, 12;
And even in yon ha', And they ha'e kill'd him, young Hunting,'
And casten him awa'.