Sir Robert Bolton had three sons
Wind well the horn, good hunter
Sir Ryalas was the eldest one
And he was a jovial hunter

He rang'd all round down by the woodside
Wind well the horn, good hunter
'Til a maiden sitting in a tree he spy'd
And he was a jovial hunter

He said 'Fair maid what brings you here?'
Wind well the horn, good hunter
'It is the wild boar that drove me here'
And you are a jovial hunter

'O he has killed my lord' said she
Wind well the horn, good hunter
'And of his men he has killed thirty'
And you are a jovial hunter

'What shall I do this wild boar to see?'
Wind well the horn, good hunter
'Blow a blast and he'll run to thee'
And you are a jovial hunter

Well, he's put his horn up to his mouth,
Wind well the horn, good hunter
And he's blown it north, east, west and south
As he was a jovial hunter

The wild boar heard him into his den
Wind well the horn, good hunter
And he made the best of his speed to him
As he was a jovial hunter

He's wetted his tusks to make them strong
Wind well the horn, good hunter
He thrashed down trees as he charged along
And he was a jovial hunter

They fought five hours one long summer day
Wind well the horn, good hunter
Till the wild boar fain would have run away
And he was a jovial hunter

Sir Ryalas drew his sword with might,
Wind well the horn, good hunter
He's fairly cut his head off straight
And he was a jovial hunter

There came a wild woman running out of the wood:
Wind well the horn, good hunter
Saying 'You have killed my pretty little pig!
And you are a jovial hunter

Then at him this wild woman did go
Wind well the horn, good hunter
And he clove her from her head to her toe
And he was a jovial hunter

In Bromsgrove church they both are lay'n
Wind well the horn, good hunter
And the wild boar's head is drawn on a stone
And he was a jovial hunter