Sweet William’s Ghost (Child 77D)

Lady Margaret was in her wearie room,
Sewin her silken seam,
And in cam Willie, her true-love,
Frae Lundin new come hame.

'O are ye my father Philip,
Or are ye my brither John?
Or are ye my true-love, Willie,
Frae London new come home?'

'I'm nae your father Philip,
Nor am I your brother John;
But I am your true-love, Willie,
An I'm nae a levin man.

'But gie me my faith and troth, Margrat,
An let me pass on my way;
For the bells o heaven will be rung,
An I'll be mist away.'

'Yere faith and troth ye'se never get,
Till ye tell me this ane;
Till ye tell me where the women go
That hang themsell for sin.'

'O they gang till the low, low hell,
Just by the devil's knee;
It's a' clad ower wi burnin pitch,
A dreadfu sicht to see.'

'But your faith and troth ye'se never get,
Till you tell me again;
Till you tell me where the children go
That die without a name.'

'O they gang till the high, high heaven,
Just by our Saviour's knee,
An it's a' clad ower wi roses red,
A lovelie sicht to see.

'But gie me my faith and troth, Margrat,
And let me pass on my way;
For the psalms o heaven will be sung,
An I'll be mist away.'

'But your faith and troth yese never get
Till ye tell me again;
Till ye tell me where the women go
That die in child-beddin.'

'O they gang till the hie, hie heaven,
Just by our Saviour's knee,
And every day at twal o clock
They're dipped oer the head.

'But gie me my faith and troth, Margret,
And let me pass on my way;
For the gates o heaven will be shut,
And I'll be mist away.'

Then she has taen a silver key,
Gien him three times on the breast;
Says, There's your faith and troth, Willie,
I hope your soul will rest.

'But is there room at your head, Willie?
Or is there room at your feet?
Or is there room at any o your sides,
To let in a lover sweet?'

'There is nae room at my head, Margrat,
There's nae room at my feet,
But there is room at baith my sides,
To lat in a lover sweet.'