True Thomas lay o'er yon grassy bank; And he beheld a lady gay; A lady that was brisk and bold, Come riding o'er the ferny brae.
Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk, Her mantle o' the velvet fine; At ilka tett of her horse's mane, Hung fifty silver bells and nine.
True Thomas, he took off his hat, And bowed him low down till his knee: "All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven! For your peer on earth I never did see."
"O no, O no, True Thomas," she says, "That name does not belong to me; I am but the Queen of fair Elfland, And I am come here for to visit thee.
(tett, tuft.)
"Harp and carp, Thomas," she said; "Harp and carp along wi' me; And if ye dare to kiss my lips, Sure of your body I will be."—