|
For more than seven years the king he staid |
|
Into the land of Spain, |
|
And seven years True Thomas was |
|
His daughter's chamberlain. |
|
'What aileth you, my daughter Janet, |
|
You look sae pale and wan? |
|
Ye've either been sick, and very, very sick, |
|
Or else ye hae lain wi a man. |
|
Or else ye hae lain wi a man.' |
|
'There is no dreder in my heart, |
|
Nor do I love a man; |
|
But it is for your lang, lang byding awae |
|
Into the land of Spain.' |
|
'Ye'll cast aff your bonny brown gown, |
|
And lay it on a stone, |
|
And I'll tell ye, my dear Janet, |
|
If ever ye loved a man.' |
|
She's cast aff her bonny brown gown, |
|
And laid it on a stone; |
|
Her belly it was big, her twa sides high, |
|
Her colour it was quite gane. |
|
'O is it to a man and a man o' might, |
|
'Or is it to a man that's mean? |
|
O it is to Thomas o Winsberry, |
|
That cannae longer len.' |
|
'O where are all my wall-wight men, |
|
That I pay meat and fee, |
|
That will gae for Thomas o Winesberry, |
|
And bring him here to me? |
|
High hanged he shall be.' |
|
She's turnd her right and round about, |
|
The tears blinded her ee: |
|
'If ye do any ill to True Thomas, |
|
Ye'll never get gude o me.' |
|
When Thomas came before the king |
|
He glanced like the fire; |
|
His hair was like the threads o gold, |
|
His eyes like crystal clear. |
|
'It was nae wonder, my daughter Janet, |
|
Altho ye loved this man; |
|
If he were a woman, as he is a man, |
|
My bed-fellow he would been. |
|
My bed-fellow he would been.' |
|
'O will ye marry my daughter Janet? |
|
The truth's in your right hand; |
|
Ye's hae some o my gold, and some o my gear, |
|
And the twelfth part o my land.' |
|
'It's I will marry your daughter Janet; |
|
The truth's in my right hand; |
|
I'll hae nane o your gold, nor nane o your gear, |
|
I've enough in my ane land. |
|
'But I will marry your daughter Janet |
|
With thirty ploughs and three, |
|
And four and twenty bonny breast-mills, |
|
All on the water o Dee.' |
|
All on the water o Dee.' |
