Fisher himself describes this song as “a shape shifting ballad from the north of Scotland”:
Many of the words and the phrasing are suitable to that dialect of English–or the survival of the old Scots language, if you prefer to look at it that way.
I rede ye beware o' the hunting, young man
I rede ye beware o' the hunting, young man
For the Lord of the May has sorrow for ay;
His daughter away wi' the faeries was ta'en
I rede ye beware o' the hunting, young man
I rede ye beware o' the hunting, young man
After mony's the year to bring him some cheer
The Lord of the May a'huntin' has gane
I rede ye beware o' the hunting, young man
I rede ye beware o' the hunting, young man
For he drew not his bow at a deer or a roe
But the bonnie white bird that sat on a stane
I rede ye beware o' the hunting, young man
I rede ye beware o' the hunting, young man
For his arrow he shot, but it harméd her not
For it died in the heart of his daughter Elaine/alane
I rede ye beware o' the hunting, young man
I rede ye beware o' the hunting, young man
For the Lord of the May has sorrow for ay;
His daughter away wi' the faeries was ta'en