1 The king has been long seven years away,
Long seven years away frae hame;
Our king has been long seven years away,
A hunting oer in Spain.
* * * * *
2 'What aileth thee, my ae daughter,
Thou lookst so pale and wan?
Hast thou had any sore sickness,
Or hast thou loved man?'
3 'I have not had any sore sickness,
To make me look sae wan;
But it is for your own majestie,
You staid sae lang in Spain.'
4 'Cast aff, cast aff thy silken gown,
And lay it on yon stane,
And I'll tell to thee if with child you be,
Or if ye be with nane.'
5 She's casten aff her costly gown,
That's made o the silk sae fine;
Her stays were sae strait she could na loot,
And her fair colour was wan.
6 'Oh is it to any mighty man?
Or any lord of fame?
Or is it to the rank robbers
That I sent out o Spain?'
7 'It is no to the rank robbers
That you sent out o Spain;
But it is to Thomas of Winsbury,
For I dought na lie my lane.'
8 'If it be to Lord Thomas,' he says,
'It's hanged shall he be:'
'If you hang Thomas of Winsbury,
You'll get na mair gude o me.'
9 The king's called up his merry men all,
By one, by two, and three;
Lord Thomas should hae been the foremost man,
But the hindmost man was he.