An outlandish knight from the north lands came,
And he came wooing of me;
And he told me he'd take me to that northern land,
And there he would marry me.

Well, an outlandish knight from the northern lands came,
He came wooing of me;
He told me he'd take me up to the north lands,
There he would marry me.

“Go fetch me some of your father's gold,
Some of your mother's fee,
And two of the best of your father's horses,
There stands thirty and three.”

She's fetched him some of her father's gold,
Some of her mother's fee,
And two of the best of her father's horses,
There stands thirty and three.

Well, she mounted on her lily-white horse,
And he upon the grey.
And away they did ride to the fair river side,
Three hours before it was day.

Then she's mounted on her milk-white steed,
He's rode the dapple grey.
They rode till they came to the broad riverside,
Three hours before it was day.

He says, “Unlight, unlight, my little Polly,
Unlight, unlight,” cries he,
“For six pretty maids I've drowned here before,
And the seventh thou art to be.”

“Light down, light down, my pretty fair maid,
Light down, light down,” cried he,
“Six pretty maidens I've drowned here,
And the seventh one you shall be.”

“Pull off, pull off your silken gown,
Deliver it over to me.
For it is too fine and much too fair
To rot in the salt water sea.”

She said, “Go get a sickle to crop the thistle
That grows beside the brim,
That it may not mingle with my curly locks
Nor harm my lily-white skin.”

“Go get me a sickle to crop off the thistle
That grows beneath the brim,
It will not mingle with my curly locks
Or mangle my glittering skin.”

So He got a sickle to crop the thistle
That grew beside the brim,
And she catched him around the middle so small,
And tumbled him into the stream.

He's got the sickle to crop off the thistle
That grows beneath the brim,
She's caught him round by his middle so small,
Tumbled him into the stream.

Sometimes he sank, sometimes he swam,
Down to the bank came he.
“Oh help me, oh help me, my pretty fair maid,
Or drowned I shall be”

“Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man,
Lie there instead of me,
Six pretty maidens you've drowned here.
But the seventh one has drowned thee.”

Then she mounted on her lily-white horse,
And she did ride away,
And she arrived at her father's door
Three hours before it was day.

She's mounted on her milk-white steed,
And led the dapple grey,
She rode till she came to her father's door
An hour before it was day.

Now the parrot being in the window so high;
A-hearing the lady, he did say,
“I'm afraid that some ruffian have led you astray,
That you've tarried so long away.”

But the parrot was up in his window so high;
On hearing the lady, he did say,
“I was afraid that some ruffians had done you harm,
You've tarried so long before day.”

“Don't prittle, don't prattle, my pretty Polly,
Nor tell no tales of me,
And your cage shall be of the glittering gold,
And your perch of the best ivory.”

“Don't prittle, don't prattle, my pretty Polly,
Don't tell no tales of me,
Your cage shall be made of the glistening gold,
And your perch of the best ivory.”

Now the master being in the bedroom so high,
A-hearing that parrot, he did say,
“What's the matter with you, my pretty Polly,
You're prattling so long before day?”

But her father was up in the bedroom so high,
Hearing the parrot, did say,
“What is the matter, my pretty Polly,
You've cried so long before day?”

“There came an old cat on the top of my cage,
To take my sweet life away,
I was just calling on my young mistress,
To drive that old puss away.”

“Oh, there came an old cat in my window high,
To take my life away,
And I was just calling my young mistress,
To scare that old pussy away.”

Lady Margaret she sits in her bower sewing,
Baba and a lily-va,
When she saw the knight with his horn a-blowing,
On the very first morning of May.

Well, an outlandish knight from the northern lands came,
He came wooing of me;
He told me he'd take me up to the north lands,
There he would marry me.

“Oh would your lord would give to me rest,
And it's baba and a lily-va,
And that young knight lay here on my breast,
On the very first morning of May.”

Now the lady she had these words scarce spoken,
And baba and a lily-va,
When in at her window the knight come a-jumping,
On the very first morning of May.

“Oh strange it is, oh strange, young woman,
And baba and a lily-va,
I can scarce blow my horn but I hear you a-calling,
On the very first morning of May.”

“Go get you gold from your father's table,
Deliver it all unto me,
And the two fastest horses in your father's stable,
Where there stand thirty and three.”

“Go fetch me some of your father's gold,
Some of your mother's fee,
And two of the best of your father's horses,
There stands thirty and three.”

She's fetched him some of her father's gold,
Some of her mother's fee,
And two of the best of her father's horses,
There stands thirty and three.

Now she's mounted her up on the black, black horse,
And he's rode on the dapple grey.
And they rode till they come to the broad seaside,
Just three hours before it was day.

Then she's mounted on her milk-white steed,
He's rode the dapple grey.
They rode till they came to the broad riverside,
Three hours before it was day.

“Light down, light down off your horse, ” he cries,
“And deliver him up unto me.
For it's six pretty maids I have drowned here,
And the seventh one you shall be.”

“Light down, light down my pretty fair maid,
Light down, light down,” cried he,
“Six pretty maidens I've drowned here,
And the seventh one you shall be.”

“Take off, take off all your clothes,” he cries,
“And deliver them all unto me.
For they are too fine and costly robes
For to rot in the salt salt sea.”

“Pull off, pull off your silken gown,
Deliver it over to me.
For it is too fine and much too fair
To rot in the salt water sea.”

“Light down, light down off your horse,” she cries,
“And turn your back unto me.
For it's not fitting that any gentleman
A naked lady should see.”

“Go get me a sickle to crop off the thistle
That grows beneath the brim,
It will not mingle with my curly locks
Or mangle my glittering skin.”

So he's lighted him down off his horse so high,
And he's turned his back unto she,
And she's catched him around his middle so small,
And she's tumbled him all down in the sea.

He's got the sickle to crop off the thistle
That grows beneath the brim,
She's caught him round by his middle so small,
Tumbled him into the stream.

Sometimes he sank, sometimes he swam,
And it's baba and a lily-va,
“Oh help, oh help, o you pretty fair maid,
Or drownded I shall be.”

Sometimes he sank, sometimes he swam,
Down to the bank came he.
“Oh help me, oh help me, my pretty fair maid,
Or drowned I shall be”

“Lie there, lie there, o you false young man,
Lie there instead of me,
For it's six pretty maids you have drownded here,
And the seventh one have drownded thee.”

“Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man,
Lie there instead of me,
Six pretty maidens you've drowned here.
But the seventh one has drowned thee.”

So she's mounted her up on the black, black horse,
And she's led the dapple grey,
And she's rode till she come to her father's yard
Just an hour before it was day.

She's mounted on her milk-white steed,
And led the dapple grey,
She rode till she came to her father's door
An hour before it was day.

And a parrot sitting up at his window so high,
And baba and a lily-va,
“Oh where have you been my pretty mistress,
So long before it is day.”

But the parrot was up in his window so high;
On hearing the lady, he did say,
“I was afraid that some ruffians had done you harm,
You've tarried so long before day.”

“Don't you prittle, don't you prattle, o my pretty Polly,
Don't tell no tales on me,
And your cage shall be made of the finest glittering gold,
And your perch of the best ivory.”

“Don't prittle, don't prattle, my pretty Polly,
Don't tell no tales of me,
Your cage shall be made of the glistening gold,
And your perch of the best ivory.”

And her father sitting up at his window so high,
And on hearing the parrot, he did say,
“Oh what is the matter, my pretty Polly,
That you cry so long before the day?”

But her father was up in the bedroom so high,
Hearing the parrot, did say,
“What is the matter, my pretty Polly,
You've cried so long before day?”

“Oh there come a cat to my window so high,
And it's baba and a lily-va,
And I was a-calling my pretty mistress,
Just to frighten that pussycat away.”

“Oh, there came an old cat in my window high,
To take my life away,
And I was just calling my young mistress,
To scare that old pussy away.”

And he's followed her up, he's followed her down,
And it's into the room where she lay.
She hadn't the strength for to flee from his arms
So they tumbled - to answer him nay.

An outlandish knight from the north lands came,
He come a-courting me;
And he promised he'd take me into the north lands,
And there would marry me.

“Rise up, rise up, my pretty Polly,
Rise up and go with me.
I will take you to North Scotland
And there you'll married be.”

“Go fetch me some of your father's gold,
Some of your mother's fee,
And the two best horses that are in your yard,
Where there stands thirty and three.”

“Go fetch you a bag of your father's gold,
Some of your mother's fee.
Two fine horses out of the stable,
There stand thirty and three.”

So she rode away on their milk-white steed,
He on the dapple grey,
And they rode till they come to the banks of the sea,
Three hours before it was day.

So she's lit upon her nimble-going brown
And he's mounted the dapple grey.
When they come to North Scotland
It was just three hours till day.

“Unlight, unlight, my pretty little girl,
Deliver that gold to me.
For six pretty maidens I have drownded here
And the seventh one you shall be.”

“Light you down, light you down, my pretty Polly,
Light you down I say to thee.
Six King's daughters have I drowned here
And the seventh will surely be thee.”

“But first take off your gown of silk,
Deliver it unto me,
For I think that it is too fine and too gay
To rot with you in the salt sea.”

“And pull off, pull off your fine gay clothes,
Hang them on yonder tree.
For they are too fine and they cost too much
For to rot in the salt lake sea.”

“Turn around, turn around, you false young man,
Turn your face to the tree,
For it isn't fit that a villain like you
A naked lady should see.”

“Then you get a sickle and you cut down the nettles
That grow so close to the brim.
For I fear to tangle me long yellow hair
And they'll tear me lily-white skin.”

So as he turned himself around,
Turning his face to the tree,
She's grabbed him by the middle so small
And flung him into the sea.

So he's got a sickle and he's cut down the nettles
That grow so close to the brim.
And she's picked him up so skilfully
And she's pushed the false knight in.

“Lie there, lie there you false young man,
Lie there instead of me,
For if six pretty maidens you have drownded here
Then the seventh one has drowned thee.”

“Lie there, lie there me false young man,
Lie there in the room of me.
For six King's daughters have you drowned there
And the seventh's drowned thee.”

So she mounted on the lily-white horse,
Leading the dapple grey,
And she rode till she come to her father's own door,
An hour before it was day.

So she's lit upon her nimble going brown,
And she's led the dappled grey.
When she's come to her father's door
It was just three hours till day.

Now the parrot being up in the window so high,
And hearing his mistress, did say,
“I'm afraid some ruffian had led you astray,
You tarried so long away.”

“Don't prittle, don't prattle my pretty Polly,
Nor tell no tales of me,
And your cage shall be of the glittering gold
And your perch of the best ivory.”

“Hush up, hush up me pretty Polly bird,
Don't you tell tales of me.
Your cage will be made of the very beaten gold
And the door of the best ivory.”

Now her father being up in his bedroom so high,
And hearing the parrot, did say,
“What's the matter with you, my pretty Polly,
You're prattling so long before day?”

But then up and spoke a fine young man
In the chamber where he lay,
“What's the matter, what's the matter with my pretty Polly bird,
You talking so long afore day?”

“There come an old cat on the top of my cage,
To take my sweet life away,
And I was just calling for my young mistress
To chase that old puss away.”

“Oh there's two black cats at me cage and door,
My life they will betray.
And I'm just a-calling for me pretty Polly
For to drive the cats away.”

And he's followed her up, he's followed her down,
And it's into the room where she lay.
She hadn't the strength for to flee from his arms
So they tumbled - to answer him nay.

An outlandish knight from the north lands came
And he came a-wooing me.
He promised he'd take me unto the northern lands
And there he'd marry me.

An outlandish knight from the north lands came
He came a-wooing of me.
He told he'd take me to some north lands
And there he would marry me.

“Come fetch me some of your father's gold
And some of your mother's fee,
And two of the best horses in the stable
Where there stand thirty and three.”

“Go fetch me some of your father's gold
Some of your mother's fee,
And two of the best of your father's horse
Where there stand thirty and three.”

I fetched him some of my father's gold
Some of my mother's fee,
And two of the best of my father's horse
Where there stood thirty and three.

He mounted on the milk white steed
And she on the dappled grey,
And they rode till they came to the salt water side
An hour before the day.

I mounted on my milk white steed,
He rode the dappled grey,
We rode till they came to the water side
Six hours before it was day.

“Light off, light off your steed,” he said,
“And deliver it unto me.
For six pretty maidens I have drowned here
And you the seventh shall be.

“Light off, light off thy milk-white steed
And deliver it unto me.
For six pretty maidens I've drowned here
And the seventh one you shall be.

“Pull off, pull off thy silken gown,
And deliver it unto me;
For it is not fitting that such gay clothing
Should rot in the salt, salt sea.

“Pull off, pull off thy silken stays,
And deliver them unto me;
For it is not fitting that such gay clothing
Should rot in the salt, salt sea.

“Take off, take off your Holland smock
And deliver it unto me.
For it is too fine and too rich a gear
To rot with you under the sea.”

“Pull off, pull off thy Holland smock
And deliver it unto me.
For it is not fitting that such gay clothing
Should rot in the salt, salt sea.”

“If I must take off my Holland smock
Then o turn your face from me.
For it is not fitting that such a ruffian
A naked lady should see.”

“If I'm to take off my Holland smock
Pray turn your back towards me.
For it is not fitting that any young man
A naked lady should see.”

So he's turned his face away from her,
To view the leaves so green.
And she's catched him by the middle so small
And she's tumbled him into the stream.

He turned his back upon me there,
To view the leaves so green.
I caught him around the middle so small
And tumbled him into the stream.

Well he swam high and he swam low
Till he's come unto the side.
“Fetch hold of my hand, you pretty fair maid,
And I will make you my bride.”

He floated high and he floated low
Till he came unto the side.
“Catch hold of my hand, my pretty fair maid,
And I will make thee my bride.”

“Lie there, lie there you false hearted man,
Lie there instead of me.
For if six pretty maidens you have drowned here
The seventh one hath drowned thee.”

“Lie there, lie there you false hearted man,
Lie there instead of me.
For if six pretty maidens you've drowned here
But the seventh one hath drowned thee.”

She's mounted on the milk white steed
And she's led the dappled grey,
And she's rode till she came to her own father's hall
An hour before the day.

I mounted on my milk white steed
And led the dappled grey,
And I rode till I came to my father's house
Three hours before it was day.

The parrot being up in the window so high
And hearing the lady did say,
“I'm afraid some ruffian has led you astray
That you've tarried so long away.”

The parrot was perched high up in his cage,
And hearing me enter did say,
“What ails thee, what ails thee, my pretty fair maid?
You're stirring so long before day.”

“Don't prittle, don't prattle, my pretty Polly,
Nor tell any tales of me,
And your cage shall be made of the finest beaten gold
And the doors of the best ivory.”

“Don't prittle nor prattle, my pretty parrot,
Nor tell no tales of me,
And thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold
And the door of the best ivory.”

The king being sat in the window so high,
And hearing the parrot did say,
“What makes you cry out, my pretty Polly,
So long before the day?”

My father being up in his chamber so high,
And hearing the parrot did say,
“What ails thee, what ails thee, my pretty poll parrot,
Thou’rt talking so long before day!”

“It's no laughing matter,” the parrot he said,
“That makes me cry out to thee.
For the cat he climbed in the window so high
And I feared he would harm me.”

“O master, O master,” replied the old parrot,
“It’s no laughing matter!” cried he,
“For the cat has just been and caught a poor mouse,
And I’m afraid he will soon have me.”

“Well done, well done, my pretty Polly,
You have tuned your notes well to me.
Now your cage shall be made of the finest beaten gold
And the doors of the best ivory, ivory,
And the doors of the best ivory.”

“Well turned, well turned, my pretty poll parrot,
Well turned, well turned for me!
Now thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold
And the door of the best ivory.”

There was a rich nobleman I've heard tell
And he came a courting of me,
And he said, “We will ride, and ere we return
Then married we will be.”

She went into her father's stable
She was gay as gay might be,
And she mounted upon her milk-white steed,
And the dapple grey rode he.

“Jump off! Jump off! I pray,” he said,
“And deliver your horse to me.
Six pretty maids have I drowned here,
And the seventh thou shalt be.

“Pull off, pull off, thy silken smock
And thy silken gown,” said he.
“Six pretty maids have I stripped here,
And the seventh thou shalt be.”

“Take up thy sickle and cut the nettle,
That grows on the water brim,
For fear it should stick in my gay gold locks
And should sting my milk-white skin.”

He took the sickle and cut the nettle
That grew on the water brim,
And she gave him a most cunning push,
And she speedily pushed him in.

“O help! O help! my fair pretty maid,
And today I will marry thee.”
“Lie there, lie there, thou false hearted knave,
Lie there and drown, said she.

“Lie there, lie there! thou false hearted knave,
Lie there and drown, said she
Six pretty maids hast thou drowned here,
And the seventh drowneth thee.”

Every leaf was oppress'd and she heard no sound,
Nor to lark nor thrush gave heed.
Nor the throstle did call in the whole of the tree
As she mounted her milk white steed.

And she mounted her on her milk-white steed
And she led the dapple grey,
And she rode till she came to her father's hall
Just at the break of day.

“O where have you been, my fair pretty queen?”
The parrot he did say,
“That you have been out all in the night
And return before the day.”

“O hush! and O hush! my pretty parrot,
O say not a word,” said she,
“Thy cage it shall be of the beaten gold,
That was of the timbern tree.”

Then up and spake her father dear,
From the bed where on he lay,
“O what is the matter with my parrot
That he chatters before the day.”

“The cat came to my own cage-door
And threatenèd to kill me.
And I called aloud for help to come,
To come and deliver me.”

“Well turn'd, well turn'd my pretty parrot
Well turn'd, well turn'd said she.
Thy cage shall be made of shining gold,
That was of the timbern tree.”