Whan she cam to the king's court, She rappit wi' a ring; Sae ready was the king himsel' To lat the lady in. "Gude day, gude day, my liege the king, 55 Gude day, gude day, to thee;" "Gude day," quo' he, "my lady fair, What is't ye want wi' me?" "There is a knicht into your court, This day has robbed me;" 60 "O has he tane your gowd," he says, "Or has he tane your fee?" "He has na tane my gowd," she says, "Nor yet has he my fee; But he has tane my maiden-head, 65 The flow'r o' my bodie." "O gin he be a single man, His body I'll gie thee; But gin he be a married man, I'll hang him on a tree." 70 Then out bespak the queen hersel', Wha sat by the king's knee: "There's na a knicht in a' our court Wad hae dune that to thee, Unless it war my brither, Earl Richard, 75 And forbid it, it war he!" "Wad ye ken your fause love, Amang a hundred men?" "I wad," said the bonnie ladie, "Amang five hundred and ten." 80 The king made a' his merry men pass, By ane, by twa, and three; Earl Richard us'd to be the first man, But was hindmost man that day. He cam hauping on ae foot, 85 And winking wi' ae ee; "Ha! ha!" cried the bonnie ladie, "That same young man are ye." He has pou'd out a hundred pounds, Weel lockit in a glove; 90 "Gin ye be a courteous may, Ye'll chose anither love." "What care I for your hundred pounds? Nae mair than ye wad for mine; What's a hundred pounds to me, 95 To a marriage wi' a king! "I'll hae nane o' your gowd, Nor either o' your fee; But I will hae your ain bodie, The king has grantit me." 100 "O was ye gentle gotten, maid? Or was ye gentle born? Or hae ye onie gerss growin'? Or hae ye onie corn? "Or hae ye onie lands or rents 105 Lying at libertie? Or hae ye onie education, To dance alang wi' me?" "I was na gentle gotten, madam, Nor was I gentle born; 110 Neither hae I gerss growin', Nor hae I onie corn. "I hae na onie lands or rents, Lying at libertie; Nor hae I onie education, 115 To dance along wi' thee." Whan the marriage it was oure, And ilk ane took their horse,-- "It never sat a beggar's brat, At na knicht's back to be." 120 He lap on ae milk-white steed, And she lap on anither, And syne the twa rade out the way Like sister and like brither.