No: 39; variant: 39[M]
- My father was a noble knight,
And was much gi’n to play,
And I myself a bonny boy,
And followed him away.
- He rowd me in his hunting-coat
And layd me down to sleep,
And by the queen of fairies came,
And took me up to keep.
- She set me on a milk-whtie steed;
‘Twas o the elfin kind;
His feet were shot wi beaten goud,
And fleeter than the wind.
- Then we raid on and on’ard mair,
Oer mountain, hill and lee,
Till we came to a hie, hie wa,
Upon a mountain’s bree.
- The apples hung like stars of goud
Out-our that wa sa fine;
I put my hand to pu down ane,
For want of food I thought to tine.
- ‘O had your hand, Tamas!’ she said,
‘O let that evil fruit now be!
It was that apple ye see there
Beguil’d man and woman in your country.
- ‘O dinna ye see yon road, Tamas,
Down by yon lilie lee?
Blessd is the man who yon gate gaes,
It leads him to the heavens hie.
- ‘And dinna ye see yon road, Tamas,
Down by yon frosty fell?
Curst is the man that yon gate gaes,
For it leads to the gates of hell.
- ‘O dinna ye see yon castle, Tamas,
That’s biggit between the twa,
And theekit wi the beaten goud?
O that’s the fairies’ ha.
- ‘O when ye come to the ha, Tamas,
See that a weel-learnd boy ye be;
They’ll ask ye questions ane and a’,
But see ye answer nane but me.
- ‘If ye speak to ain but me, Tamas,
A fairie ye maun ever bide;
But if ye speak to nane but me, Tamas,
Ye may come to be your country’s pride.’
- And when he came to Fairie Ha,
I wot a weel-learnd boy was he;
They askd him questions ane and a’,
But he answerd nane but his ladie.
- There was four-and-twenty gude knights’-sons
In fairie land obliged to bide,
And of a’ the pages that were there
Fair Tamas was his ladie’s pride.
- There was four-and-twenty earthly boys,
Wha all played at the ba,
But Tamas was the bonniest boy,
And playd the best amang them a’.
- There was four-and-twenty earthly maids,
Wha a’ playd at the chess,
Their colour rosy-red and white,
Their gowns were green as grass.
- ‘And pleasant are our fairie sports,
We flie o’er hill and dale;
But at the end of seven years
They pay the teen to hell.
- ‘And now’s the time, at Hallowmess,
Late on the morrow’s even,
And if ye miss me then, Janet,
I’m lost for yearis seven.’