The harper came, and the harper sang,
And oh but they were fain;
For when he had sung the gude sang twice,
They called for it again.
It was the sang o’ the Field o’ Gowd,
In the days of auld langsyne;
When bauld King Henry crossed the seas,
Wi’ his brither King to dine.
And aye he harped, and aye he carped,
Till up the Queen she sprang—
“I’ll wad a County Palatine,
Gude Walter made that sang.”
Three days had come, three days had gane,
The fourth began to fa’,
When our gude Queen to the Frenchman said,
“It’s time I was awa!
“O, bonny are the fields o’ France,
And saftly draps the rain;
But my bairnies are in Windsor Tower,
And greeting a’ their lane.
“Now ye maun come to me, Sir King,
As I have come to ye;
And a benison upon your heid
For a’ your courtesie!
“Ye maun come, and bring your ladye fere;
Ye sall na say me no;
And ye’se mind, we have aye a bed to spare
For that gawsy chield Guizot.”
Now he has ta’en her lily-white hand,
And put it to his lip,
And he has ta’en her to the strand,
And left her in her ship.
“Will ye come back, sweet bird?” he cried,
“Will ye come kindly here,
When the lift is blue, and the lavrocks sing,
In the spring-time o’ the year?”
“It’s I would blithely come, my Lord,
To see ye in the spring;
It’s I would blithely venture back
But for ae little thing.