Lord Thomas of Winesberrie
WILLIE O WINSBURY—H
[_]
Kinloch's Scottish Ballads, p. 92.
1
It fell upon a time, when the proud king of France
Went a hunting for five months and more,
That his dochter fell in love with Thomas of Winesberrie,
From Scotland newly come oer.
2
Whan her father cam hame frae hunting the deer,
And his dochter before him cam,
Her belly it was big, and her twa sides round,
And her fair colour was wan.
3
‘What ails thee, what ails thee, my dochter Janet?
What maks thee to look sae wan?
Ye've either been sick, and very, very sick,
Or else ye hae lain wi a man.’
4
‘Ye're welcome, ye're welcome, dear father,’ she says,
‘Ye're welcome hame to your ain,
For I hae been sick, and very, very sick,
Thinking lang for your coming hame.
5
‘O pardon, O pardon, dear father,’ she says,
‘A pardon ye'll grant me:’
‘Na pardon, na pardon, my dochter,’ he says,
‘Na pardon I'll grant thee.
6
‘O is it to a man of micht,
Or to a man of mean?
Or is it to onie of thae rank robbers
That I sent hame frae Spain?’
7
‘It is not to a man of micht,
Nor to a man of mean;
But it is to Thomas o Winesberrie,
And for him I suffer pain.’
8
‘If it be to Thomas o' Winesberrie,
As I trust well it be,
Before I either eat or drink,
Hie hangit sall he be.’
9
When this bonnie boy was brought afore the king,
His claithing was o the silk,
His fine yellow hair hang dangling doun,
And his skin was like the milk.
10
‘Na wonder, na wonder, Lord Thomas,’ he says,
‘My dochter fell in love wi thee,
For if I war a woman, as I am a man,
My bed-fellow ye shoud be.
11
‘Then will ye marry my dochter Janet,
To be heir to a' my land?
O will ye marry my dochter Janet,
Wi the truth o your richt hand?’
12
‘I will marry your dochter Janet,
Wi the truth o my richt hand;
I'll hae nane o your gowd, nor yet o your gear,
I've eneuch in fair Scotland.
13
‘But I will marry your dochter Janet,
I care na for your land,
For she's be a queen, and I a king,
Whan we come to fair Scotland.’
