O where ha’ha’ you been, Lord Randal my son?
And where ha’ you been, my handsome young man?
I ha’ been at the greenwood; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi’wearied wi’ hunting and fain wad’fain wad’ lie down.

5 An’ wha met yeAn’ wha met ye there, Lord Randal my son?

An’ wha met you there, my handsome young man?
O I met wi’ my true-love; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi’ hunting and fain wad’ lie down.

And what did she give you, Lord Randal my son?
10 And what did she give you, my handsome young man?
EelsEels fried in a pan; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi’ hunting and fain wad’ lie down.

And wha gat you leavinsAnd wha gat you leavins, Lord Randal my son?
And wha gat you leavins, my handsome young man?
15 My hawks and my houndsMy hawks and my hounds; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi’ hunting and fain wad’ lie down.

And what becam of them, Lord Randal my son?
And what becam of them, my handsome young man?
They stretched their legs out an’ died; mother, make my bed soon,
20 For I’m wearied wi’ hunting and fain wad’ lie down.

O I fear you are poisoned, Lord Randal my son!
O I fear you are poisoned, my handsome young man!
O yes, I am poisoned; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart and fain wad’ lie down.

25 What d’ye leave to your mother, Lord Randal my son?
What d’ye leave to your mother, my handsome young man?
Four and twenty milk kyekye; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart and fain wad’ lie down.

What d’ye leave to your sister, Lord Randal my son?
30 What d’ye leave to your sister, my handsome young man?
My gold and my silver; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart and fain wad’ lie down.

What d’ye leave to your brother, Lord Randal my son?
What d’ye leave to your brother, my handsome young man?
35 My houses and my lands; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart and fain wad’ lie down.

What d’ye leave to your true-love, Lord Randal my son?
What d’ye leave to your true-love, my handsome young man?
I leave hell and fire; mother, make my bed soon,
40 For I’m sick at the heart and fain wad’ lie down.
Casa Editrice G. Principato
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