Nae Luck There
Now it fell before the Litha-tide,
When the Muir-men win their hay,
The doughty Wulf bound him stride
For the wild, to drive a prey
He chose the Herewulf and the Eawulf,
The Lyttleman, light and gay
But the Cynewulf would nae wi’ him stride,
And he rues it to this day
He march’d up tae Pukel-man toun,
And strode it round all bye
Sayin wha’s the lord of this green wood?
And wha’s the lady O’ ?
But up there spake the Pukel-man,
And O but he spake hie
I am the lord of this green wood,
An pukel-wife’s the lady O’
If thou art the lord o’ this green wood,
Sae weel it pleases me
For, ‘er I cross the Border fells,
Aine O Us shall dee
He took a lang spear in his hand,
Shod with the metal bree,
And for to meet the Pukel-man there,
He charged richte furiouslie,
But O how pale his comprades look’d,
Frae from the greenward tall
When down, before the Pukel spear,
They saw the proud Wulf fall.