Testo 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 have 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 might 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 wan o my servin men Sae newly been ower in Spain It wisnae a laird or a duke or a knight Or a man o birth or fame But it was 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 I dae eat or drink High hangit he will be They've socht him up an they've socht him doun They've socht him sair an lang Till thair in the shade o an elder tree It's Willie o the Winsbury they found Rise up nou, Willie o the Winsbury, they cried Rise up an haste away For the king has sworn by his right hand That it is yer dyin day Oh wha hae I robbed or wha hae I slain Or wha hae I dune any wrang? That I sude fear tae face the king An the time sall no be lang An whan he cam the king afore He was dressed aa in the silk His cheeks they were like the berries red An his skin was 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 mairry my dochter Janet By the truth o your right hand? Or will ye marry my dochter Janet An I mak ye a laird o the land O A will mairry yer dochter Janet By the truth o my right hand An I will mairry yer dochter Janet But the de'il tak aa yer land An he's mounted her on a milk white steed Himsel on a dapple gray An he's made her the lady o as much land As she'd ride in a lang simmer's day