"O tho' the night were ever sae dark, O the wind blew never sae cauld, I will be in May Margaret's bower Before twa hours be tauld." "O bide this night wi' me, Willie, O bide this night wi' me! The bestan fowl in a' the roost At your supper, my son, shall be." "A' your fowls, and a' your roosts, I value not a pin; I only care for May Margaret; And ere night to her bower I'll win." "O an ye gang to May Margaret Sae sair against my will, In the deepest pot o' Clyde's water My malison ye's feel!" He mounted on his coal-black steed, And fast he rade awa'; But ere he came to Clyde's water Fu' loud the wind did blaw. As he rade over yon hie hie hill, And doun yon dowie den, There was a roar in Clyde's water Wad feared a hundred men. But Willie has swam through Clyde's water, Though it was wide and deep; And he came to May Margaret's door When a' were fast asleep. O he's gane round and round about, And tirled at the pin, But doors were steeked and windows barred, And nane to let him in. "O open the door to me, Margaret! O open and let me in! For my boots are fu' o' Clyde's water, And frozen to the brim." "I daurna open the door to you, I daurna let you in; For my mither she is fast asleep, And I maun mak' nae din." "O gin ye winna open the door, Nor be sae kind to me, Now tell me o' some out-chamber, Where I this night may be." "Ye canna win in this night, Willie, Nor here ye canna be; For I've nae chambers out nor in, Nae ane but barely three. "The tane is fu' to the roof wi' corn, The tither is fu' wi' hay; The third is fu' o' merry young men, They winna remove till day." "O fare ye weel, then, May Margaret, Sin' better it mauna be. I have won my mither's malison, Coming this night to thee." He's mounted on his coal-black steed, O but his heart was wae! But e'er he came to Clyde's water, 'Twas half-way up the brae. When down he rade to the river-flood, 'Twas fast flowing ower the brim; The rushing that was in Clyde's water Took Willie's rod frae him. He leaned him ower his saddle-bow To catch his rod again; The rushing that was in Clyde's water Took Willie's hat frae him. He leaned him ower his saddle-bow To catch his hat by force; The rushing that was in Clyde's water Took Willie frae his horse. O I canna turn my horse's head; I canna strive to sowm; I've gotten my mither's malison, And it's here that I maun drown!" The very hour this young man sank Into the pot sae deep, Up wakened his love, May Margaret, Out of her heavy sleep. "Come hither, come hither, my minnie dear, Come hither read my dream; I dreamed my love Willie was at our gates, And nane wad let him in." "Lie still, lie still, dear Margaret, Lie still and tak' your rest; Your lover Willie was at the gates, 'Tis but two quarters past." Nimbly, nimbly rase she up, And quickly put she on; While ever against her window The louder blew the win'.