‘It fears me sair in Clyde Water That he is drown’d therein!’ O they have sent for the King’s divers, To dive for Young Hunting.
‘Gar dive, gar dive!’ the King he cried, ‘Gar dive for gold and fee! O wha will dive for Young Hunting’s sake, Or wha will dive for me?’
They dived in at the tae water-bank, They dived in at the tither: ‘We can dive no more for Young Hunting, Altho’ he were our brither.’
It fell that in that lady’s castle The King was boun to bed, And out it spake the popinjay That flew abune his head:
‘Leave off, leave off, your day diving, And dive upon the night; And where that sackless[240] Knight lies slain The candles will burn bright.’
They left their diving on the day, And dived upon the night; And over the place Young Hunting lay The candles shone fu’ bright.
The deepest pot in Clyde Water They got Young Hunting in, With a green turf tied across his breast To keep that good lord down.
Then up and spake the King himsel’, When he saw the deadly wound: ‘O wha has slain my right-hand man, That held my hawk and hound?’
Then up and spake the popinjay, Says, ‘What needs a’ this din? It was his light leman took his life, And hided him in the linn[241].’
She sware her by the grass sae green, So did she by the corn, She hadna seen Young Hunting Since Monanday at morn.
‘Put not the wyte[242] on me,’ she says, ‘It was my May[243] Catheren.’ Then they have cut baith thorn and fern, To burn that maiden in.
When they had ta’en her May Catheren, In the bonfire set her in; It wouldna take upon her cheeks, Nor yet upon her chin, Nor yet upon her yellow hair, To heal the deadly sin.
Out they have ta’en her May Catheren, And put the lady in: O it took upon her cheek, her cheek, Took fast upon her chin, Took fast upon her fair body-- She burnt like hollins[244] green.
An earthly nourrice[245] sits and sings, And aye she sings, ‘Ba, lily wean! Little ken I my bairn’s father, Far less the land that he staps in.’
Then ane arose at her bed-fit, An’ a grumly guest I’m sure was he: ‘Here am I, thy bairn’s father, Although that I be not comèlie.
‘I am a man, upo’ the lan’, An’ I am a silkie[246] in the sea; And when I’m far and far frae lan’, My dwelling is in Sule Skerrie.’
‘It was na weel,’ quo’ the maiden fair, ‘It was na weel, indeed,’ quo’ she, ‘That the Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie Suld hae come and aught[247] a bairn to me.’