Can anybody fill in the missing bits of the following lyric (marked with "(?)"?


THE HEIR TO PERCY'S HALL
As performed by Vin Garbutt

Twas in and about the May Day time when the white flowers sweetly lie
When the primrose (?) and the (?) cups and the larks (?) the sky

That Percy, deBruce, the (?) son, (?)
From their proud mountain homes went forth to spend a hunting day

And they have left fair ?Killdale's? halls, Skelton's castle fair
The stately walls of Gisborough, to seek the wild boar's lair

They 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 Percy loud did cry
Let a silver dirk to him who's pierced the boar of Eskdaleside

And in that ancient forest's green beside the gnarled oak
The hermit meek of Eskdaleside, his lone communing took

Twas there the boar, all red with gore burst into ?open? stead
Wounded and torn, it staggered on, and fell before him dead

Back to your home, proud Percy back, (?) footsteps trace
"Herbert deBruce" how dare you thus pollute the sacred place

Thou shaven priest how dare you halt the heir to Percy's hall
How dare you stop my (?) hounds, and keep my prey in thrall

Then pierced him with his good broad sword that (?) 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

So (?) the abbot did command the youths of Eskdaleside
(?) by my holy mother church, what may this deed betide

What e'er 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 (?) thine

I charge these youths on the (?) eve, a penance for their crime
(?) in the forest take, and at early morning time

To raise up (?) 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 grew faint, farewell thou smiling shores
Sweet Esk', my Esk', I look at thee well, one cry and all is o'er