Willie o Winesberry
No: 100; variant: 100A
- THE king he hath been a prisoner,
A prisoner lang in Spain, O
And Willie o the Winsbury
Has lain lang wi his daughter at hame. O
- ‘What aileth thee, my daughter Janet,
Ye look so pale and wan?
Have ye had any sore sickness,
Or have ye been lying wi a man?
Or is it for me, your father dear,
And biding sae lang in Spain?’
- ‘I have not had any sore sickness,
Nor yet been lying wi a man;
But it is for you, my father dear,
In biding sae lang in Spain.’
- ‘Cast ye off your berry-brown gown,
Stand straight upon the stone,
That I may ken ye by yere shape,
Whether ye be a maiden or none.’
- She’s coosten off her berry-brown gown,
Stooden straight upo yon stone;
Her apron was short, and her haunches were round,
Her face it was pale and wan.
- ‘Is it to a man o might, Janet?
Or is it to a man of fame?
Or is it to any of the rank robbers
That’s lately come out o Spain?’
- ‘It is not to a man of might,’ she said,
‘Nor is it to a man of fame;
But it is to William of Winsburry;
I could lye nae langer my lane.’
- The king’s called on his merry men all,
By thirty and by three:
‘Go fetch me William of Winsbury,
For hanged he shall be.’
- But when he cam the king before,
He was clad o the red silk;
His hair was like to threeds o gold.
And his skin was as white as milk.
- ‘It is nae wonder,’ said the king,
‘That my daughter’s love ye did win;
Had I been a woman, as I am a man,
My bedfellow ye should hae been.
- ‘Will ye marry my daughter Janet,
By the truth of thy right hand?
I’ll gie ye gold, I’ll gie ye money,
And I’ll gie ye an earldom o land.’
- ‘Yes, I’ll marry yere daughter Janet,
By the truth of my right hand;
But I’ll hae nane o yer gold, I’ll hae nane o yer money,
Nor I winna hae an earldom o land.
- ‘For I hae eighteen corn-mills,
Runs all in water clear,
And there’s as much corn in each o them
As they can grind in a year.’