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The authorship of the following poems is unknown.

Lord Randall

   "Oh where ha'e ye been, Lord Randall my son?
O where ha'e ye been, my handsome young man?"
     "I ha'e been to the wild wood: mother, make my bed soon,
     For I’m weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."

   "Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randall my son?
Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?"
     "I dined wi' my true love; mother, make my bed soon,
     For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."

   "What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randall my son?
What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?"
     "I gat eels boiled in broo: mother, make my bed soon,
     For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."

   "What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randall my son?
What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?"
     "O they swelled and they died: mother, make my bed soon,
     for I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."

   "O I fear ye are poisoned, Lord Randall my son!
O I fear ye are poisoned, my handsome young man!"
     "O yes, I am poisoned: mother, make my bed soon,
     For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down."

This poem is in the public domain.

This poem is in the public domain.

Anonymous

The authorship of this poem is unknown.

by this poet

poem
To my people it's as though he gave them a sacrifice:
They will destroy him if he comes among them.
   It is otherwise with us.

Wulf is on one island, I on another.
A fastness is that island, rung round with fens.
Fierce men are there on the island.
They will destroy him if he comes among them.
   It is
poem
O Insewn God—born from Zeus' thigh—
   some folk say in Drakanon,
some in windy Ikaros,
   others say in Naxos,
or by the deep-eddying river Alpheos,
pregnant Semele bore you to thunder-loving Zeus.
Others say you were born in Thebes, Lord,
but all of them lie:
   the father of men and gods gave birth to you
far
poem
There was a lady loved a swine,
     "Honey!" quoth she;
"Pig-hog, wilt thou be mine?"
     "Hoogh!" quoth he.

"I'll build thee a silver sty,
     Honey!" quoth she;
"And in it thou shalt lie!"
     "Hoogh!" quoth he.

"Pinned with a silver pin,
     Honey!" quoth she;
"That thou mayest go out and in,"
     "
2