Peter Robins, his website

LAT never a man a wooing wend
That lacketh thingis three;
A routh o gold, an open heart,
Ay fu o charity.

As this I speak of King Henry,
For he lay burd-alone;
An he's doen him to a jelly hunt's ha,
Was seven miles frae a town.

He chas'd the deer now him before,
An the roe down by the den,
Till the fattest buch in a' the flock
King Henry he has slain.

O he has doen him to his ha,
To make him beerly cheer;
An in it came a griesly ghost,
Steed stappin i the fleer.

Her head hat the reef-tree o the house,
Her middle ye mot wel span;
He's thrown to her his gay mantle,
Says, `Lady, hap your lingcan.'

Her teeth was a' like teather stakes,
Her nose like club or mell;
An I ken naething she 'peard to be,
But the fiend that wons in hell.

`Some meat, some meat, ye King Henry,
Some meat ye gie to me!'
`An what meat's in this house, lady,
An what ha I to gie?'
`O ye do kill your berry-brown steed,
An you bring him here to me.'

O whan he slew his berry-brown steed,
Wow but his heart was sair!
Shee eat him [a'] up, skin an bane,
Left naething but hide an hair.

`Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,
Mair meat ye gi to me!'
`An what meat's in this house, lady,
An what ha I to gi?'
`O ye do kill your good gray-hounds,
An ye bring them a' to me.'

O whan he slew his good gray-hounds,
Wow but his heart was sair!
She eat them a' up, skin an bane,
Left naething but hide an hair.

`Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,
Mair meat ye gi to me!'
`An what meat's i this house, lady,
An what ha I to gi?'
`O ye do kill your gay gos-hawks,
An ye bring them here to me.'

O whan he slew his gay gos-hawks,
Wow but his heart was sair!
She eat them a' up, skin an bane,
Left naething but feathers bare.

`Some drink, some drink, now, King Henry,
Some drink ye bring to me!'
`O what drink's i this house, lady,
That you're nae welcome ti?'
`O ye sew up your horse's hide,
An bring in a drink to me.'

And he's sewd up the bloody hide,
A puncheon o wine put in;
She drank it a' up at a waught,
Left na ae drap ahin.

`A bed, a bed, now, King Henry,
A bed you mak to me!
For ye maun pu the heather green,
An mak a bed to me.'

O pu'd has he the heather green,
An made to her a bed,
An up has he taen his gay mantle,
An oer it has he spread.

`Tak aff your claiths, now, King Henry,
An lye down by my side!'
`O God forbid,' says King Henry,
`That ever the like betide;
That ever the fiend that wons in hell
Shoud streak down by my side.'
* * * * *

Whan night was gane, and day was come,
An the sun shone throw the ha,
The fairest lady that ever was seen
Lay atween him an the wa.

`O well is me!' says King Henry,
`How lang'll this last wi me?'
Then out it spake that fair lady,
`Even till the day you dee.

`For I've met wi mony a gentle knight
That's gien me sic a fill,
But never before wi a courteous knight
That ga me a' my will.'