Child Owlet

Lady Erskine sits into her bower
Sewing a silken seam
A bonny shirt for Child Owlet
As he goes out and in

His face was fair, long was his hair
She's called him to come near
"Oh, you must cuckold Lord Ronald
For all his lands and gear"

"Oh, lady, hold your tongue, for shame
For such should ne'er be done
How can I cuckold Lord Ronald
And me his sister's son?"

Then she's ta'en out a small penknife
That lay beside her head
She's pricked herself below her breast
Which made her body bleed

Lord Ronald's come into hеr bower
Where shе did make her moan
"Oh, what is all this blood", he said
"That shines on your breastbone?"

"Young Child Owlet, your sister's son
Is new gone from my bower
Had I not been a good woman
I'd have been Child Owlet's whore"

Then he has taken Child Owlet
Thrown him in prison strong
And all his men, a council held
To judge Child Owlet's wrong

Some said, Child Owlet, he should hang
Some said that he should burn
Some said they would he, Child Owlet
Between wild horses torn

"Ten horses in my stable stand
Can run right speedily
It's you must to my stable go
And take out four for me"

They tied a horse unto each foot
And one unto each hand
They've sent them out o'er Elkin Moor
As fast as they could run

There was no stone on Elkin Moor
No broom nor bonny whin
But's dripping with Child Owlet's blood
And pieces of his skin

There was no grass on Elkin Moor
No broom nor bonny rush
But's dripping with Child Owlet's blood
And pieces of his flesh