Lay thy loof in mine lass/Lord Thomas of Winsberry

by Robert Burns (1759-1796)

Lord Thomas of Winsberry

It fell upon a time that the proud King of France,
went a hunting for five months and more,
His daughter fell in love with Lord Winsberry,
who from Scotland was newly come o’er

You're welcome, welcome dear father she said,
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 he says,
and spread it on yonder green,
and tell them from me that in mourning you are,
or that you have lain with a man,

She’s put off her gown of green,
and spread it on the strand,
Her haunches were round and her belly was big,
from her face the colour is gone.

O is it to a man of might he says;
or is it to a man that’s mean,
or is it to one of these rank rebels,
that lately from Scotland came.

O it is to a man of might she says,
it is to one that is mean,
It is to Lord Thomas of Winsberry,

and for him I must suffer pain

The king called up his merry men all,
by one by two and by three,
Go fetch me Lord Thomas of Winsberry,
for to-morrow he shall die

They sought him up they sought him down,
as fast as fast could be,
There they found Lord Thomas of Winsberry,
sitting under an orange tree

Get up get up Lord Thomas they said,
get up and bound your way,
For the king has sworn by his honoured crown,
that to morrow is thy dying day,

O what have I robb'd? or what have I stolen?
or what have I killed or slain?
That I should be afraid to speak to your king,
for I have done him no wrong.

Lord Thomas came tripping up the stair,
His cloathing was of the silk,
His fine yellow hair hung dangling down,
his skin was white as the milk.

And when he came before the king,
he kneeled down on his knee,
Says what is your will with me my liege?
what is your will with me?

I think no wonder Lord Thomas says,
that my daughter fell in love with thee;
If thou wert a woman as thou art a man,
my bed-fellow thou wouldst be.

Will you marry my daughter Jean,
by the faith of my right hand,
Thou’se have part of my gold part of my gear,
and a third part of my land.

Yes I will marry thy daughter Jean,
by the faith of my right hand,
I'll have none of your gold none of your ear,
I have enough in fair Scotland,

She has mounted on a milk white steed,
himself on a dapple grey,
He’s got as much land in fair Scotland,
as they can ride in a summer’s day.