Thomas the Rymer
True Thomas lay on Huntley bank
a furly he spied we'is he
and there he spied a lady bright
came riding dune by the eilden tree
her shirt was of the grass green silk
her mantle of the velvet fine
and il-catet her horse's main
hung fifty silver bells and nine
True Thomas he duthed off his cap
and louted low on bended knee
"All hail thou mighty Queen of Heaven,
that pere on earth I nere did see"
"Oh no, oh no, oh True Thomas,
That name does not belong to me;
I'm but the queen of fair Elfland,
and hither come dune to visit thee"
"Harp and carp say True Thomas,
Harp and carp and long wea me
and if you dare to kiss my lips
true of your body I shall be."
Betide me weil, betide me woe
that ye hon nary dontane me
sane he has kissed her rosy lips
all underneith the eildan tree.
"Now you mun go wea me" she said,
"True Thomas ye mun go wea me
and ye mun serve me seven years
by weil or woe as me chance to be
But Thomas ye mun hold your tounge-
whatever ye may do or see-
for if you speak word in Elfanland
you'll nare win back to your aine country
Now she's mounted on her milk white steed
and taken Thomas up behind
and they raid on her bridal rung
that steed gea swifter than the winde
Twas merk, merk night and there was strane light
That steed gea swifter than the wind
Until they reached a desert wide
and living land was left behind.
"Lie down, lie down now True Thomas
and lean your head upon my knee
aside and rest a little space
and I will show you furleys three.
Now see ye not yon narrow road
so thick beset with thorns and bryer;
that is the path of rightchessness
though after it but few inquire.
And see ye not yon braid, braid road
that winds about the lilly levin,
that is the path of wickedness
though some call it the road to heaven.
And see ye not yon bony road
that winds about the ferny brea
that is the road to fair Elfland
where you and I this night mun gea.
For fourty days and fourty nights
they rode through rivers abun the knee
of all the blood that's shed on Earth
ran o'er the spring of that country.
At last they came to a garden green.
She pulled an apple frea a tree-
"Take this for thine wage, True Thomas-
T'will give the a tounge that can never lee"
"Me tounge's me aine" True Thomas said,
"It's a goodly gift you've gave to me;
I'd narry dought to buy or sell
at fair or trist where I may be"
"I doth narry speak with prince nor peer
nor ask of grace from fair lady-"
"Now, hold your tounge" the lady said
"For as I speak so must it be"
And he's gotten a coat of the even cloth
and pair'o'shoes of velvet green
until seven years had gaen and past
True Thomas on Earth was never seen.