Kamsay's Tea Table Miscellany, "4th volume, 1740;"
here from the London edition of 1763, p. 324.
| 1 |
There came a ghost to Margret's door,
With many a grievous groan,
And ay he tirled at the pin,
But answer made she none. |
| 2 |
'Is that my father Philip,
Or is't my brother John?
Or is't my true-love, Willy,
From Scotland new come home?' |
| 3 |
''Tis not thy father Philip,
Nor yet thy brother John;
But 'tis thy true-love, Willy,
From Scotland new come home. |
| 4 |
'O sweet Margret, O dear Margret,
I pray thee speak to me;
Give me my faith and troth, Margret,
As I gave it to thee.' |
| 5 |
'Thy faith and troth thou's never get,
Nor yet will I thee lend,
Till that thou come within my bower,
And kiss my cheek and chin.' |
| 6 |
'If I shoud come within thy bower,
I am no earthly man;
And shoud I kiss thy rosy lips,
Thy days will not be lang. |
| 7 |
'O sweet Margret, O dear Margret,
I pray thee speak to me;
Give me my faith and troth, Margret,
As I gave it to thee.' |
| 8 |
'Thy faith and troth thou's never get,
Nor yet will I thee lend,
Till you take me to yon kirk,
And wed me with a ring.' |
| 9 |
'My bones are buried in yon kirk-yard,
Afar beyond the sea,
And it is but my spirit, Margret,
That's now speaking to thee.' |
| 10 |
She stretchd out her lilly-white hand,
And, for to do her best,
'Hae, there's your faith and troth, Willy,
God send your soul good rest.' |
| 11 |
Now she has kilted her robes of green
A piece below her knee,
And a' the live-lang winter night
The dead corp followed she. |
| 12 |
'Is there any room at your head, Willy?
Or any room at your feet?
Or any room at your side, Willy,
Wherein that I may creep?' |
| 13 |
'There's no room at my head, Margret,
There's no room at my feet;
There's no room at my side, Margret,
My coffin's made so meet.' |
| 14 |
Then up and crew the red, red cock,
And up then crew the gray:
'Tis time, tis time, my dear Margret,
That you were going away.' |
| 15 |
No more the ghost to Margret said,
But, with a grievous groan,
Evanishd in a cloud of mist,
And left her all alone. |
| 16 |
'O stay, my only true-love, stay,'
The constant Margret cry'd;
Wan grew her cheeks, she closd her een,
Stretchd her soft limbs, and dy'd. |
