The Old Man and His Three Sons
[THIS traditional ditty, founded upon the old ballad inserted ante, p. 124, is current as a nursery song in the North of England.]
THERE was an old man, and sons he had three, 250Wind well, Lion, good hunter.A friar he being one of the three,With pleasure he rangèd the north country,For he was a jovial hunter.
As he went to the woods some pastime to see,Wind well, Lion, good hunter,He spied a fair lady under a tree,Sighing and moaning mournfully.He was a jovial hunter.
‘What are you doing, my fair lady!’Wind well, Lion, good hunter.‘I’m frightened, the wild boar he will kill me,He has worried my lord, and wounded thirty,As thou art a jovial hunter.’
Then the friar he put his horn to his mouth,Wind well, Lion, good hunter.And he blew a blast, east, west, north, and south,And the wild boar from his den he came forthUnto the jovial hunter.