True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank; A ferlie he spied with his e'e; And there he saw a ladye bright, Come riding down by the Eildon tree. Her skirt was o' the grass-green silk, Her mantle o' the velvet fine, At ilka tett of her horse's mane, Hung fifty siller bells and nine. True Thomas he pu'd aff his cap, And louted low down to his knee; "All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven! For thy peer on earth I never did see." "O no, O no, Thomas," she said, "That name does not belang to me; I'm but the Queen of fair Elfland, That hither am come to visit thee! "Harp and carp, Thomas," she said, "Harp and carp alang wi' me; And if ye daur to kiss my lips, Sure of your bodie I shall be!" "Betide me weal, betide me woe, That weird shall never daunton me!" Syne he has kissed her rosy lips, All underneath the Eildon tree. "Now ye maun go wi' me," she said, "True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me; And ye maun serve me seven years, Through weal or woe as may chance to be." She's mounted on her milk-white steed, She's ta'en True Thomas up behind; And aye, whene'er her bridle rang, The steed gaed swifter than the wind. O they rade on, and further on, The steed gaed swifter than the wind; Until they reached a desert wide, And living land was left behind. "Light down, light down now, Thomas," she said, "And lean your head upon my knee; Light down, and rest a little space, And I will show you ferlies three. "O see ye na that braid braid road, That stretches o'er the lily leven? That is the path of wickedness, Though some call it the road to heaven. "And see ye na yon narrow road, Sae thick beset wi' thorns and briers? That is the path of righteousness, Though after it but few enquires. "And see ye na yon bonny road, That winds about the ferny brae? That is the way to fair Elfland, Where you and I this night maun gae. "But, Thomas, ye maun hauld your tongue, Whatever you may hear or see; For if ye speak word in Elfin land, Ye'll ne'er win back to your ain countrie!" O they rade on, and further on, And they waded through rivers aboon the knee, And they saw neither sun nor moon, But they heard the roaring of a sea. It was mirk mirk night, there was nae stern-light, And they waded through red blude to the knee; For a' the blude that's shed on earth, Kins through the springs o' that countrie. Syne they came to a garden green, And she pu'd an apple frae a tree-- "Take this for thy wages, True Thomas; It will give thee the tongue that can never lie!" "My tongue is my ain!" True Thomas he said, "A gudely gift ye wad gie to me! I neither douglit to buy nor sell, At fair or tryste where I may be. "I dought neither speak to prince nor peer, Nor ask for grace from fair ladye!" "Now hauld thy tongue, Thomas!" she said "For as I say, so must it be."