Anonymous

True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;
  A ferlie he spied wi' his ee;                    marvel
And there he saw a lady bright
  Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.
 
Her shirt was o the grass-green silk,         
  Her mantle o the velvet fyne; 
At ilka tett of her horse's mane,                every
  Hung fifty siller bells and nine.
 
True Thomas he pull'd aff his cap,
  And louted low down to his knee          bowed
'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 am but the Queen of fair Elfland,
  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.'

'Betide me weal, betide me woe,
  That weird shall never daunten me.'          fate/intimidate
Syne he has kiss'd her rosy lips,                  then
  All underneath the Eildon Tree.
  
'Now, ye maun go wi me,' she said,
  'True Thomas, ye maun go wi me;
And ye maun serve me seven years,
  Thro weal or woe, as may chance to be.’
 
She mounted on her milk-white steed,
  She 's ta'en True Thomas up behind;
And aye wheneer her bridle rung,
  The steed flew swifter than the wind.

O they rade on, and farther on—
  The steed gaed swifter than the wind;       
Until they reached a desart wide,
  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 show you ferlies three.
  
'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 not yee that braid braid road,
  That lies across that lily leven?                         lovely greensward
That is the path of wickedness,
  Tho some call it the road to heaven.
  
'And see not ye that bonny road 
  That winds about the fernie brae?
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,
  Ye'll neer get back to your ain countrie.'
 
O they rade on and farther on,
  And they waded thro rivers aboon the knee;                   above
And they saw neither sun nor moon,
  But they heard the roaring of the sea.
 
It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light,     star
  And they waded thro red blude to the knee;
For a' the blude that 's shed on earth
  Rins thro the springs o' that countrie.
 
Syne they came on to a garden green 
  And she pu'd an apple frae a tree:
'Take this for they wages, True Thomas;
  It will give the tongue that can never lie.'

'My tongue is mine ain,' True Thomas said; 
  'A gudely gift ye wad gie to me!
I neither dought to buy nor sell                                        fear
  At fair or tryst where I may be.                                 meeting
 
'I dought neither speak to prince or peer,
  Nor ask of grace from fair ladye:'—
'Now hold they peace, Thomas,' the lady said,
  'For as I say, so must it be.'
 
He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,
  And a pair of shoes of velvet green;
And till seven years were gane and past
  True Thomas on earth was never seen.     

Traditional Medieval Romance

 = Wayne Vargas