Proud Lady Margaret (Child 47D)

There cam a knicht to Archerdale,
His steed was winder sma,
An there he spied a lady bricht,
Luikin owre her castle wa.

'Ye dinna seem a gentle knicht,
Though on horseback ye do ride;
Ye seem to be some sutor's son,
Your butes they are sae wide.'

'Ye dinna seem a lady gay,
Though ye be bound wi pride;
Else I'd gane bye your father's gate
But either taunt or gibe.'

He turned aboot his hie horse head,
An awa he was boun to ride,
But neatly wi her mouth she spak:
Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide.

'Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire,
Tell me mair o your tale;
Tell me some o that wondrous lied
Ye've learnt in Archerdale.

'What gaes in a speal?' she said,
'What in a horn green?
An what gaes on a lady's head,
Whan it is washen clean?'

'Ale gaes in a speal,' he said,
'Wine in a horn green;
An silk gaes on a lady's head,
Whan it is washen clean.'

Aboot he turned his hie horse head,
An awa he was boun to ride,
When neatly wi her mouth she spak:
Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide.

'Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire,
Tell me mair o your tale;
Tell me some o that unco lied
You've learnt in Archerdale.

'Ye are as like my ae brither
As ever I did see;
But he's been buried in yon kirkyaird
It's mair than years is three.'

'I am as like your ae brither
As ever ye did see;
But I canna get peace into my grave,
A' for the pride o thee.

'Leave pride, Janet, leave pride, Janet,
Leave pride an vanitie;
If ye come the roads that I hae come,
Sair warned will ye be.

'Ye come in by yonder kirk
Wi the goud preens in your sleeve;
When you're bracht hame to yon kirkyaird,
You'll gie them a' thier leave.

'Ye come in to yonder kirk
Wi the goud plaits in your hair;
When you're bracht hame to yon kirkyaird,
You will them a' forbear.'

He got her in her mither's bour,
Puttin goud plaits in her hair;
He left her in her father's gairden,
Mournin her sins sae sair.