THE BONNY LASS OF ANGLESEY
Our king he has a secret to tell,
And ay well keepit it must be;
The English lords are coming down
To dance and win the victory.
Our king has cried a noble cry,
And ay well keepit it must be:
"Gar saddle ye, and bring to me
The bonny lass of Anglesey."
Up she starts, as white as the milk,
Between him and his company:
"What is the thing I hae to ask,
If I should win the victory?"
"Fifteen ploughs but and a mill
I gie thee till the day thou die,
And the fairest knight in a' my court
To chuse thy husband for to be."
She's taen the fifteen lord by the hand,
Saying, "Will ye come dance with me?"
But on the morn at ten o'clock
They gave it o'er most shamefully.
Up then raise the fifteenth lord—
I wat an angry man was he—
Laid by frae him his belt and sword,
And to the floor gaed manfully.
He said, "My feet shall be my dead
Before she win the victory;"
But before't was ten o'clock at night
He gaed it o'er as shamefully.