Twas in and about the May Day time when the white flowers sweetly lie   
   When the primrose [   ] and the [green   ] copse and the larks [salute] the sky   
      
   That Piercy, Bruce, and [ Allatson  ] and Herberts light and Gay   
   From their proud mountain homes went forth to spend a hunting day   
      
   And they have left fair ?Kildaire's? halls, Skelton's castle fair   
   The stately walls of Gisborough, to seek the wild boar's lair   
      
   Theve lighted nigh on Eskdaleside upon the fen so brown   
   They lighted where the wild boar lay, the dread of ?Whittenby? town   
      
   The boar, the boar, the brindled boar, Lord Piercy loudly cried   
   theres a silver dirk to him who's spears the boar of Eskdaleside   
      
   And in that ancient forest green beside the gnarled oak   
   The hermit meek of Eskdaleside, his lone communings took   
      
   Twas there the boar, all red with gore burst into through open stead   
   Wounded and torn, it staggered on, and fell before him dead   
      
   Back to your home, proud Piercy back, where hence your footsteps trace/place ?   
   "Herbert deBruce" how dare you thus pollute the sacred place   
      
   Thou shaven priest how dare you halt the heir to Piercy's hall   
   How dare you stop my [fleet ] stag hounds, and keep my prey in thrall   
      
   Then piercy him with his good broad sword that [good   ] so sharply honed   
   He smote the hermit on the brow into a deathly wound   
      
   [   ] [   ] [   ] horrid outrage spread   
   That the holy monk of Eskdaleside of his wounds was nigh well dead   
      
   quickly the abbot did command the youths of Eskdaleside   
   you bide my holy mother church, what may this deed betide   
      
   What e're this pious hermit asks your punishment shall be   
   E'en by my soul, though he should ask your doom o'the gallows tree   
      
   Alas my lord, the hermit cried, revenge is not of mine   
   To extend our holy church's bound is a nobler aim [ of  ] thine   
      
   I charge these youths on the [ on ascension  ] eve, in penance for their crime   
   [  of twigs within ]  this  forest take, and at early morning time   
      
   To raise up [ with  ] these ? yellow shore a hedge that still must stand   
   Sea tides nor oceans' mighty wave shall wash it from the sand   
      
   The hunting horn that from this day their deed of shame shall sound   
   And all their heirs this tribute give 'til times' remotest bound   
      
   His eyes grew dim, his voice voice grew faint, farewell thou smiling shores   
   Sweet Esk', my Esk', I look at thee well, one cry and all is o'er   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)