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Lady Margret was standing in her own room door |
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A comb in her long yellow hair |
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When who did she spy but sweet William and his bride |
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As to the churchyard they drew near |
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The day passed away and the night coming on |
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Most of the men were asleep |
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Lady Margret appeared all dressed in white |
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Standing at his bed feet |
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She said How do you like your bed? And how do you like your sheet? |
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And how do you like your fair, young bride that's laying in your arms asleep? |
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He said Very well do I like my bed. Much better do I like my sheet. |
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But most of all that fair, young girl standing at my bed feet. |
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Then once he kissed her lily white hand |
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And twice he kissed her cheek |
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Three times he kissed her cold corpsy lips then he fell into her arms asleep. |
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The night passed away and the day came on |
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Into the morning light |
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Sweet William said I'm troubled in my head by the dreams that I dreamed last night. |
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Such dreams, such dreams as these I know they mean no good. |
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For I dreamed that my bower was full of red swine and my bride's bed full of blood. |
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He asked Is Lady Margret in her room? Or is she out in the hall? |
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But Lady Margret lay in a cold, black coffin with her face turned to the wall. |
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Throw back, throw back those snow white robe |
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Be they ever so fine. |
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And let me kiss those cold corpsy lips for I know they'll never kiss mine. |
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Then once he kissed her lily white hand |
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And twice he kissed her cheek |
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Three times he kissed her cold corpsy lips then he fell into her arms asleep |
