True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank ; A ferlie spied he wi' his ee ; There he saw a lady bright
Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.
Her skirt was o' the grass-green silk,
Her mantle o' the velvet fine ; At ilka tett of her horse's mane
Hung fifty siller bells and nine.
True Thomas, he pu'd aff his cap.
And louted low down to his knee, " Hail to thee, Mary, Queen of Heaven ! For thy peer on earth could never be."—
•
" O no, O no, Thomas," she said, " That name does not belong to me ; I'm but the Queen o' fair Elfland,
That hither have come to visit thee.
" Harp and carp, Thomas," she said ; " Harp and carp along wi' me ; And if ye dare to kiss my lips.
Sure of your bodie I shall be."
—
" Betide me weal, betide me woe,
That weird shall never daunton me."
—
Syne he has kiss'd her on the lips,
All underneath the Eildon Tree.
" Now, ye maun go wi'...