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| TRUE 1 Thomas lay on Huntlie bank; | |
| A ferlie he spied wi’ his ee; | |
| And there he saw a ladye bright, | |
| Come riding down by the Eildon Tree. | |
| |
| Her shirt was o’ the grass-green silk, | 5 |
| Her mantle o’ the velvet fyne; | |
| At ilka tett of her horse’s mane | |
| Hang fifty siller bells and nine. | |
| |
| True Thomas he pu’d aff his cap, | |
| And louted low down on his knee: | 10 |
| ‘All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven! | |
| For thy peer on earth I never did see.’ | |
| |
| ‘O no, O no, Thomas,’ she said, | |
| ‘That name does not belang to me; | |
| I’m but the Queen o’ fair Elfland, | 15 |
| That am hither 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 will be!’ | 20 |
| |
| ‘Betide me weal, betide me woe, | |
| That weird sall never daunten me;’ | |
| Syne he has kissed her rosy lips, | |
| All under the Eildon Tree. | |
| |
| ‘Now, ye maun go wi’ me,’ she said, | 25 |
| ‘True Thomas, ye maun go wi’ me, | |
| And ye maun serve me seven years, | |
| Thro weal or woe as may chance to be.’ | |
| |
| She’s mounted on her milk-white steed, | |
| She’s taen True Thomas up behind, | 30 |
| And aye, whene’er her bridle rang, | |
| The steed gaed swifter than the wind. | |
| |
| O they rade on, and farther on— | |
| The steed gaed swifter than the wind— | |
| Until they reached a desart wide, | 35 |
| And living land was left behind. | |
| |
| ‘Light down, light down now, True Thomas, | |
| And lean your head upon my knee; | |
| Abide and rest a little space, | |
| And I will shew you ferlies three. | 40 |
| |
| ‘O see ye not yon narrow road, | |
| So thick beset with thorns and briers? | |
| That is the path of righteousness, | |
| Tho after it but few enquires. | |
| |
| ‘And see ye not that braid, braid road, | 45 |
| That lies across the lily leven? | |
| That is the path of wickedness, | |
| Tho some call it the road to heaven. | |
| |
| ‘And see ye not yon bonny road, | |
| That winds about the fernie brae? | 50 |
| That is the road to fair Elfland, | |
| Where thou and I this night maun gae. | |
| |
| ‘But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, | |
| Whatever ye may hear or see, | |
| For, if you speak word in Elflyn-land, | 55 |
| Ye’ll neer win back to your ain countrie.’ | |
| |
| O they rade on, and farther on, | |
| And they waded rivers aboon the knee, | |
| And they saw neither sun nor moon | |
| But they heard the roaring of the sea. | 60 |
| |
| It was mirk, mirk night, there was nae star light, | |
| And they waded thro red blude to the knee; | |
| For a’ the blude that’s shed on the earth | |
| Rins thro the springs o that countrie. | |
| |
| Syne they came to a garden green, | 65 |
| And she pu’d an apple frae a tree: | |
| ‘Take this for thy wages, True Thomas, | |
| It will give thee the tongue that can never lee.’ | |
| |
| ‘My tongue is my ain,’ True Thomas he said, | |
| ‘A gudely gift ye wad gie to me! | 70 |
| I neither dought to buy or sell, | |
| At fair or tryst where I may be. | |
| |
| ‘I dought neither speak to prince or peer, | |
| Nor ask of grace from fair ladye:’ | |
| ‘Now hold thy peace, Thomas,’ she said, | 75 |
| ‘For as I say, so must it be.’ | |
| |
| He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, | |
| And a pair o shoes of the velvet green, | |
| And till seven years were gane and past | |
| True Thomas on earth was never seen. | 80 |
