SWEET WILLIAM AND MAY MARGARET
There came a ghost to Marg’ret’s door,
With many a grievous groan;
And aye he tirled at the pin,
But answer made she none.
‘Is that my father Philip?
Or is’t my brother John?
Or is’t my true-love Willie,
From Scotland new come home?’
‘’Tis not thy father Philip,
Nor yet thy brother John,
But ’tis thy true-love Willie
From Scotland new come home.
‘O sweet Marg’ret, O dear Marg’ret!
I pray thee speak to me;
Give me my faith and troth, Marg’ret,
As I gave it to thee.’
‘Thy faith and troth thou’s never get,
Nor it will I thee lend,
Till that thou come within my bower
And kiss me cheek and chin.’
‘If I should come within thy bower,
I am no earthly man;
And should I kiss thy ruby lips
Thy days would not be lang.
‘O sweet Marg’ret! O dear Marg’ret,
I pray thee speak to me;
Give me my faith and troth, Marg’ret,
As I gave it to thee.’
‘Thy faith and troth thou’s never get,
Nor it will I thee lend,
Till thou take me to yon kirk-yard,
And wed me with a ring.’
‘My bones are buried in yon kirk-yard
Afar beyond the sea;
And it is but my spirit, Marg’ret,
That’s now speaking to thee.’