Willie of Winsbury

The King has been a prisoner

And a prisoner long in Spain

And Willie of the Winsbury

Has lain with his daughter at home

“What ails, what ails my daughter

That you look so pale and wan

Or have you had the sickness

Or been sleeping with a man?”

“Cast off, cast off your berry-brown gown

And stand naked upon the stone

So I might know you by your shape

You could be a maiden or none”

“Was it a Lord, a Duke or a Night

Or a man of birth and fame

Or was it one of my serving men,

Lately out of Spain?”

Now the King has called on his merry men

By thirty and by three

“Fetch my this Willie of Winsbury

For hanged he shall be”

But when he came The King before

He was clad all in red silk

His hair was like golden strands

His skin was as white as milk

“It is no wonder”, said the King

“That my daughter’s love you did win

For if I were a woman

My bedfellow you would have been”

“Oh will you marry my daughter

By the truth of your right hand”

“Oh yes I will marry your daughter

But I’ll not be the Lord of your land”

He mounted her on a milk-white steed

And himself on a dapple grey

He mtade her the lady of as much land

As she should ride on a warm summer’s eve