6 'It's God forbid, Lord Thomas,' she said, 'That sic an a thing should be, But I for to be the body of the bride, And you to be the bridegroom. 7 'Come riddle me, riddle me, mother,' she says, 'Come riddle me all in one, Whether I'll go to Lord Thomas' wedding, Or mourn all day at home.' 8 'Many's the ones your friend,' she says, 'And many's the ones your fone; 'My blessing be on you, dear daughter,' she says, 'And mourn all day at home.' 9 'Many's the ones my friends, mother,' she says, 'And many's the ones my fae, But I will go to Lord Thomas' wedding Should I lose my life by the way.' 10 She dressed herself all in green, Thorow the road she went, And every village that she came to, They took her for to be a queen. 11 Till that she came to Lord Thomas' gates; She tinkled low at the ring; Who was so ready as Lord Thomas himself To let Fair Helen in. 12 'Where have you got this brown girl?' she says, 'I think she looks wonderful brown; You might have had as pretty a bride As ever the sun shined on.' 13 It's up and starts the brown girl's mother, And an angry woman was she: 'Where have you got the roseberry-water That washes your face so clear?' 14 'It's I have gotten that roseberry-water Where that she could get none; For I have got it in my mother's womb, Where in her mother's womb there was none.' 15 She took up a little pen-knife, That was baith sharp and small, She stuck Fair Helen fornents the heart, And down the blood did fall. 16 'What ailes you, Fair Helen?' he says, 'I think you look wonderful pale: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 'What ailes you, Lord Thomas?' she says, 'Or don't you very well see? O don't you see my very heart's blood Coming trinkling down by my knee?' 18 He took up a little small sword, That hung low by his knee, And he cut off the brown girl's head, And dashed it against the wall. 19 He set the sword all in the ground, And on it he did fall; So there was an end of these three lovers, Thro spite and malice all. 8^2. foe _in the margin_. 19^4. All thro spite and malice _is noted as if it were what was recited_. #f.# _From Miss Clara Mackay, Woodstock, New Brunswick, 1881, derived from her great grandmother. The title is '~Lord Thomas~.'_ 1^2. The keeper of our king's gear.