Willie O Winsbury

	  		
Verse 1 
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The king has been a poor prisoner 
      G        A7       G 
And a prisoner long in Spain 
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And Willie O the Winsbury 
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Has lain long with his daughter Jane. 

 Verse 2 
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What ails you, what ails you, my daughter Jane 
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Why you look so pale and wan? 
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Have you had any sore sickness 
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Or yet been sleeping with a man? 

 Verse 3 
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I have not had no sore sickness 
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Nor yet been sleeping with a man 
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It is for you my father dear 
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For biding so long in Spain. 

 Verse 4 
      G        D          A7 
Cast off, cast off, your berry brown gown 
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Stand naked on the stone 
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That I may know you by your shape 
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If you be a maiden or none. 

 Verse 5 
    G         D           A7 
And shes cast off her berry brown gown 
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Stood naked on the stone 
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her apron was tight and her haunches was round 
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Her face was pale and wan. 

 Verse 6 
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And was it with a lord or a duke or a knight 
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Or a man of birth and fame 
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Or was it with one of my serving men 
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While I was a prisoner in Spain? 

 Verse 7 
      G            D             A7 
No it wasnt with a lord or a duke or a knight 
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Or a man of birth and fame 
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It was with Willie o Winsbury 
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I could bide no longer alone. 

 Verse 8 
        G        D          A7 
And the king has called his serving men 
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By one by two and by three 
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Saying, Where is this Willie o Winsbury? 
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For hanged he shall be. 

 Verse 9 
    G        D         A7 
And when they came before the king 
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By one, by two and by three 
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Willie should have been the first of them 
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But the last of them was he. 

 Verse 10
    G     D         A7 
And Willie O the Winsbury 
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All dressed out in red silk 
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His hair hung like the strands of gold 
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His breast was white as milk. 

 Verse 11 
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No wonder, no wonder, the king he said, 
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That my daughters love you did win 
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If I were a woman as I am a man 
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In my own bed you would have been. 

 Verse 12 
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And will you marry my daughter Jane 
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By the faith of your right hand? 
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And Ill make you the lord of my serving men 
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Ill make you the heir of my land. 

 Verse 13
    G        D          A7 
Oh yes, Ill marry your daughter Jane 
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By the faith of my right hand. 
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But Ill not be the lord of any men, 
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Ill not be the heir to your land. 

 Verse 14
       G           D               A7 
And he raised her up on a milk-white steed 
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Himself on a dapple grey 
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He has made her the lady of as much land 
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As she can ride in a long summers day.