Lyrics:

Lady Erskine sits intae her bower
A-sowing 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 her bower
Where she did make her moan.
“Oh, what is all this blood,” he said
“That shines on your breast bone?”
“Young Child Owlet, your sister's son,
Is new gone from my bower.
If I'd 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.