This is a song performed by Vin Garbutt, is his beautiful but sometimes nearly incomprehensible Northumberian. I am not even sure of the title.

These are the words as I've been able to transcribe them. Can anyone fill in the blanks, and correct any blunders that I have made?

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're 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 voice grew faint, farewell thou smiling shores Sweet Esk', my Esk', I look at thee well, one cry and all is o'er