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WILLIE O' WINSBURY Trad ~ ~ Child 100 MORE See also Digitrad |
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Version ~ WILLIE O WINESBURY
The king had been a prisoner "What ails you, what ails you, my daughter Janet Why you look so pale and wan Have you had any sore sickness Or yet been sleeping with a man?" "I have not had any sore sickness Nor yet been sleeping with a man It is for you, my father dear, For biding so long in Spain" "Cast off, cast off your berry-brown gown Stand naked on the stane That I may know you by your shape If you be a maiden or nane" So she cast off her berry-brown gown Stood naked on the stone Her apron was low, her haunches round Her face was pale and wan "Was it with a lord or a duke or a knight Or a man of birth and fame Or was it with one of my serving men That's lately come out of Spain?" "It wasn't with a lord or a duke or a knight Nor a man of birth and fame But it was with Willie of Winsbury I could bide no longer alain" The king has called on his merry men all By thirty and by three Saying "Fetch me this Willie of Winsbury For hanged he shall be" But when he came before the king He was clad all in the red silk His hair was like the strands of gold His skin was as white as the milk "It is no wonder," said the king "That my daughter's love you did win For if I was a woman, as I am a man My bedfellow you would have been" "Now will you marry my daughter Janet By the truth of your right hand? Will you marry my daughter Janet I'll make you lord of all my land" "Oh yes, I'll marry your daughter Janet By the truth of my right hand Oh yes I'll marry your daughter Janet But I'll not be the lord of your land" He's mounted her on a milk-white steed Himself on a dapple grey He has made her the lady of as much land As she will ride in a long summer's day Version ~ THOMAS OF WINESBURY
It fell upon a time that the proud king of France You're welcome you're welcome dear father, she says You're welcome again to your own For I have been sick and very very sick Thinking long for your coming home Put off put off your gown of green Stand straight upon the stone And I will tell you by and by Whether you be a maid or none She's put off her gown of green Stood straight upon the stone And when she looked down her belly it was big And her falr colour it was wan 0 is it to a man of might, daughter Or is it to a man that's mean Or is it to one of those rank rebels That lately from Scotland came? It is not to a man of might, she says Nor yet to a man that's mean But it is to Thomas of Winesbury And for him I must suffer pain If it be to Thomas of Winesbury As I trust well it be Before I either eat or drink High hanged he shall be When Thomas came tripping up the stair His clothing was of the silk His hair hung like the threads of gold His skin was white as the milk No wonder no wonder Lord Thomas, he said My daughter fell in love with thee For if I were a woman as I am a man Mg bedfellow you should be Will you wed my daughter Jean By the faith of thy right hand And I'll give gou gold and I'll give you gear And a third part of my land I will marrg gour daughter Jean By the faith of my right hand I'll have none of your gold and none of your gear I've enough in fair Scotland. Version ~ YOUNG BARBOUR
'Twas of a lady in the west counteree, "O daughter, O daughter," her father did say, "What makes you look so pale and wan? You must have some sort of sickness," he said, "Or be in love with some young man." "O father, O fatber," the daughter did say, "'Tis no wonder for me to look so pale and wan For what do grieve my poor heart," she said, " My true love is so long at sea. " "O, is he a lord, or is he a duke, Or a man of high degree? Or is he one of my seven sea boys That ploughs the raging sea?" "He is no lord, nor he is no duke Nor a man of high degree, But he is one of your seven sea boys That ploughs the raging seas." "O daughter, O daughter," her father did say, "Is that the truth you are telling me? For to-morrow morning at eight o'clock It is hanging he will be." "O father, O father," tbe daughter did say, "Is this the truth you are telling to me? For if you do hang mine own true love, You will get no good of me." He called down his seven sea boys By one, by two, by three. Young Barbour he always used to be the first, But the last came down was he. Young Barbour he came a-trembling down, He was clothed all in silk, With his cherry cheeks like the roses red, And his skin so white as milk. "O daughter, O daughter," the father did say, "'Tis no wonder for you to look pale and wan; For if I was a woman instead of a man, I would die for the love of him." "Will you wed my daughter?" the father did say, "Will you take her by the hand?" And will you come down and dine with me And be heir to all my lands?" "Yes, I will marry your daughter," he said, "I will take her by the hand, I will come down and dine with you," he said, "And a fig for all your land!" "If you can give her a guinea a day, I can give her thirty and three, Although they calls me the Young Barbour, That ploughs the raging sea." Version ~ ARBUTUS
Our king, he has a daughter fair; Arbutus is her name Where our harpers sang of her gentle grace, of her beauty and her face And the Spanish king's declared his love, begged she might share his name Our Irish king, he's hurried home with all speed he could command And there he's told his daughter fair he's promised away her hand Her lovely eyes were filled with tears and her cheeks were scarlet red "Oh Father, dear, I can't marry him; I'd rather you see me dead." "Oh but you shall do as I command, I swear it on my sword! Go dress yourself in bright array; I'll hear not another word." "But Father dear, I love a man, Will Winsboro is his name, And I'd not leave my own true love for the hand of the king of Spain." "But I swore you were a maiden fair, and my Chiefs did all agree! I command you now, take off your gown that I may examine thee." "Oh, Father dear, don't shame me so; I would rather you see me dead Before I'd let your noble lords search for my maidenhead." "Take off, take off your very brown gown and stand upon the stone, For if you be a maiden or none, the truth it must be known." So she's taken off her very brown gown, and she's let the gown fall free But before its hem could touch the ground, she's turned into a tree And her lover's turned to the gentle breeze; through her branches he does play And she has shed her soft brown bark 'till this very day. MORE ...... Due to its great beauty this song has been recorded by a great many folk singers. The variants of names (and spellings) makes searching for it difficult, but remember it is Child 100. Digitrad gives the origin of the tune most often used. |