Willie o Winsbury

The King has been a puir prisoner

A prisoner lang in Spain

An Willie o the Winsbury

Has lain lang wi his dochter at hame

Whit ails thee nou, my dochter Janet

Ye look sae pale an wan

Oh hae ye got ony sair sickness

Or yet been sleepin wi a man?

Oh I hae got nae sair sickness

Nor yet been sleepin wi a man

But it is for you my faither dear

Sae lang been ower in Spain

Tak aff, tak aff yer berrie-broun goun

Staun naked on a stane

That I micht ken ye by yer shape

Whether ye be a maiden or nane

So she's taen aff her berrie-broun goun

Stoud naked on a stane

Her back it wis bent an her bellie wis slack

An her apron strings wadnae pin

Oh wis it a laird or a duke or a knight

Or a man o birth or fame

Or wis it wi ane o my sairvin men

Sae newlie been ower in Spain

It wisnae a laird or a duke or a knight

Or a man o birth or fame

But it wis wi Willie o the Winsbury

A could nae langer lie my lane

Oh gin it be Wille o the Winsbury, he cried,

As weil A trust it be

Then afore that A dae eat or drink

High hangit he will be

Thae've socht him up an thae've socht him doun

Thae've socht him sair an lang

Till thair in the shade o an elder tree

It's Willie o the Winsbury thae found

Rise up nou, Willie o the Winsbury, thae cried

Rise up an haste away

For the king has sworn by his richt haun

That it is yer dyin day

Oh wha hae A robbed or wha hae A slain

Or wha hae A dune ony wrang?

That A sud fear tae face the king

An the time sall no be lang

An whan he cam the king afore

He wis dresst aa in the silk

His cheeks thae were like the berries red

An his skin wis as white as the milk

It is nae wonder, says the king

That my dochter's luve ye hae wan

For had A been a woman as A am a man

My bedfellow ye wad hae been

Will ye mairrie my dochter Janet

By the truth o your richt haun?

Or will ye marrie my dochter Janet

An A'll mak ye a laird o the laun

O A will mairry yer dochter Janet

By the truth o my richt haun

An I will mairry yer dochter Janet

But the de'il tak aa yer laun

An he's mountit her oan a milk white steed

Himsel oan a dapple gray

An he's made her the lady o as much laun

As she'd ride in a lang simmer's day