Lord Thomas and Fair Annet

Fair Annie an Sweet Willie
Sat a' day on yon hill;
Whan day was gane an night was comd,
They hadna said their fill.

Willie spak but ae wrang word,
An Annie took it ill:
‘I 'll never marry a fair woman
Against my friends's will.’

Annie spak but ae wrang word,
An Willy lookit down:
‘If I binna gude eneugh for yer wife,
I 'm our-gude for yer loun.’

Willie 's turnd his horse's head about,
He 's turnd it to the broom,
An he 's away to his father's bower,
I the ae light o the moon.

Whan he cam to his father's bower,
[He tirlt at the pin;
Nane was sae ready as his father
To rise an let him in.]

‘An askin, an askin, dear father,
An askin I 'll ask thee;’
‘Say on, say on, my son Willie,
Whatever your askin be.’

‘O sall I marry the nit-brown bride,
Has corn, caitle an kye,
Or sall I marry Fair Annie,
Has nought but fair beauty?’

‘Ye ma sit a gude sate, Willy,
Wi corn, caitle an kye;
But ye 'll but sit a silly sate
Wi nought but fair beauty.’

Up than spak his sister's son,
Sat on the nurse's knee,
Sun-bruist in his mother's wame,
Sun-brunt on his nurse's knee:

‘O yer hogs will die out i the field,
Yer kye ill die i the byre;
An than, whan a' yer gear is gane,
A fusom fag by yer fire!
But a' will thrive at is wi you
An ye get yer heart's desire.’

Willie 's turnd his horse's head about,
He 's away to his mother's bour, etc.

‘O my hogs ill die out i the field,
My kye die i the byre,
An than, whan a' my gear is gane,
A fusom fag bi my fire!
But a' will thrive at is wi me
Gin I get my heart's desire.’

Willie 's, etc.,
He 's awae to his brother's bower, etc.

He 's awae to his sister's bower, etc.

Than Willie has set his wadin-day
Within thirty days an three,
An he has sent to Fair Annie
His waddin to come an see.

The man that gade to Fair Annie
Sae weel his errant coud tell:
‘The morn it 's Willie's wadin-day,
Ye maun be there yer sell.’

'T was up an spak her aged father,
He spak wi muckle care;
‘An the morn be Willie's wadin-day,
I wate she maun be there.

‘Gar take a steed to the smiddie,
Caw on o it four shoon;
Gar take her to a merchant's shop,
Cut off for her a gown.’

She wadna ha 't o the red sae red
Nor yet o the grey sae grey,
But she wad ha 't o the sky couler
That she woor ilka day.

There war four-a-twontie gray goss hawks
A' flaffin their wings sae wide,
To flaff the stour thra off the road
That Fair Annie did ride.

The[re] war four-an-twontie milk-white dows
A' fleein aboon her head,
An four-an-twontie milk-white swans
Her out the gate to lead.

Whan she cam to St Marie's kirk,
She lightit on a stane;
The beauty o that fair creature
Shone oer mony ane.

'T was than out cam the nit-brown bride,
She spak wi muckle spite;
‘O where gat ye the water, Annie,
That washes you sae white?’

‘I gat my beauty
Where ye was no to see;
I gat it i my father's garden,
Aneath an apple tree.

‘Ye ma wash i dubs,’ she said,
‘An ye ma wash i syke,
But an ye wad wash till doomsday
Ye neer will be as white.

‘Ye ma wash i dubs,’ she said,
‘An ye ma wash i the sea,
But an ye soud wash till doomsday
Ye 'll neer be as white as me.

‘For I gat a' this fair beauty
Where ye gat never none,
For I gat a' this fair beauty
Or ever I was born.’

It was than out cam Willie,
Wi hats o silks and flowers;
He said, Keep ye thae, my Fair Annie,
An brook them weel for yours.

‘Na, keep ye thae, Willie,’ she said,
‘Gie them to yer nit-brown bride;
Bid her wear them wi mukle care,
For woman has na born a son
Sal mak my heart as sair.’

Annie 's luppen on her steed
An she has ridden hame,
Than Annie 's luppen of her steed
An her bed she has taen.

When mass was sung, an bells war rung,
An a' man bound to bed,
An Willie an his nit-brown bride
I their chamber war laid,

They war na weel laid in their bed,
Nor yet weel faen asleep,
Till up an startit Fair Annie,
Just up at Willie's feet.

‘How like ye yer bed, Willie?
An how like ye yer sheets?
An how like ye yer nut-brown bride,
Lies in yer arms an sleeps?’

‘Weel eneugh I like my bed, Annie,
Weel eneugh I like my sheets;
But wae be to the nit-brown bride
Lies in my arms an sleeps!’

Willie 's ca'd on his merry men a'
To rise an pit on their shoon;
‘An we 'll awae to Annie's bower,
Wi the ae light o the moon.’

An whan he cam to Annie's bower,
He tirlt at the pin;
Nane was sae ready as her father
To rise an let him in.

There was her father a[n] her se'en brethren
A' makin to her a bier,
Wi ae stamp o the melten goud,
Another o siller clear.

When he cam to the chamber-door
Where that the dead lay in,
There was her mother an six sisters
A' makin to her a sheet,
Wi ae drap o . . . .
Another o silk sae white.

‘Stand by, stand by now, ladies a',
Let me look on the dead;
The last time that I kiss[t] her lips
They war mair bonny red.’

‘Stand by, stand by now, Willie,’ they said,
‘An let ye her alane;
Gin ye had done as ye soud done,
She wad na there ha lien.’

‘Gar deal, gar deal at Annie's burrial
The wheat bread an the wine,
For or the morn at ten o clock
Ye 's deal'd as fast at mine.’
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