| The king has been a prisoner
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| And a prisoner long in Spain
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| And Willie of the Winsbury
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| Has lain long with his daughter at home
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| «What ails you, what ails you, my daughter Janet
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| Why you look so pale and wan?
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| Oh, have you had any sore sickness
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| Or yet been sleeping with a man?»
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| «No, I have not had any sore sickness
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| Nor yet been sleeping with a man
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| It is for you, my father dear
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| For biding so long in Spain»
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| «Cast off, cast off your berry-brown gown
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| You stand naked upon the stone
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| That I may know you by your shape
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| Whether you be maiden or none»
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| And she’s cast off her berry-brown gown
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| She stood naked upon the stone
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| Her apron was low and her haunches were round
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| Her face was pale and wan
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| «Oh, was it with a lord or a duke or a knight
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| Or a man of birth and fame
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| Or was it with one of my serving men
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| That’s lately come out of Spain?»
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| «It wasn’t with a lord, nor a duke or a knight
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| Nor a man of birth and fame
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| But it was with Willie of Winsbury
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| I could bide no longer alone»
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| And the king has called on his merry men all
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| By thirty and by three
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| Saying, «Fetch me this Willie of Winsbury
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| For hanged he shall be»
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| But when he came the king before
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| He was clad all in the red silk
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| His hair was like the strands of gold
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| His skin was as white as milk
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| «Oh, it is no wonder,» said the king
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| «That my daughter’s love you did win
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| For if I was a woman, as I am a man
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| My bedfellow you should have been»
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| «And will you marry my daughter Janet
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| By the truth of your right hand?
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| Oh, will you marry my daughter Janet?
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| I will make you the lord of my land»
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| «Oh yes, I will marry your daughter Janet
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| By the truth of my right hand
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| Yes, I will marry your daughter Janet
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| But I’ll not be the lord of your land»
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| And he’s mounted her on a milk-white steed
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| And himself on a dapple grey
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| He has made her the lady of as much land
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| As she shall ride in a long summer’s day |