Verse 1
G D A7
The king has been a poor prisoner
G A7 G
And a prisoner long in Spain
D Bm F#m
And Willie O the Winsbury
D Bm G
Has lain long with his daughter Jane.
Verse 2
G D A7
What ails you, what ails you, my daughter Jane
G A7 G
Why you look so pale and wan?
D Bm F#m
Have you had any sore sickness
D Bm G
Or yet been sleeping with a man?
Verse 3
G D A7
I have not had no sore sickness
G A7 G
Nor yet been sleeping with a man
D Bm F#m
It is for you my father dear
D Bm G
For biding so long in Spain.
Verse 4
G D A7
Cast off, cast off, your berry brown gown
G A7 G
Stand naked on the stone
D Bm F#m
That I may know you by your shape
D Bm G
If you be a maiden or none.
Verse 5
G D A7
And shes cast off her berry brown gown
G A7 G
Stood naked on the stone
D Bm F#m
her apron was tight and her haunches was round
D Bm G
Her face was pale and wan.
Verse 6
G D A7
And was it with a lord or a duke or a knight
G A7 G
Or a man of birth and fame
D Bm F#m
Or was it with one of my serving men
D Bm G
While I was a prisoner in Spain?
Verse 7
G D A7
No it wasnt with a lord or a duke or a knight
G A7 G
Or a man of birth and fame
D Bm F#m
It was with Willie o Winsbury
D Bm G
I could bide no longer alone.
Verse 8
G D A7
And the king has called his serving men
G A7 G
By one by two and by three
D Bm F#m
Saying, Where is this Willie o Winsbury?
D Bm G
For hanged he shall be.
Verse 9
G D A7
And when they came before the king
G A7 G
By one, by two and by three
D Bm F#m
Willie should have been the first of them
D Bm G
But the last of them was he.
Verse 10
G D A7
And Willie O the Winsbury
G A7 G
All dressed out in red silk
D Bm F#m
His hair hung like the strands of gold
D Bm G
His breast was white as milk.
Verse 11
G D A7
No wonder, no wonder, the king he said,
G A7 G
That my daughters love you did win
D Bm F#m
If I were a woman as I am a man
D Bm G
In my own bed you would have been.
Verse 12
G D A7
And will you marry my daughter Jane
G A7 G
By the faith of your right hand?
D Bm F#m
And Ill make you the lord of my serving men
D Bm G
Ill make you the heir of my land.
Verse 13
G D A7
Oh yes, Ill marry your daughter Jane
G A7 G
By the faith of my right hand.
D Bm F#m
But Ill not be the lord of any men,
D Bm G
Ill not be the heir to your land.
Verse 14
G D A7
And he raised her up on a milk-white steed
G A7 G
Himself on a dapple grey
D Bm F#m
He has made her the lady of as much land
D Bm G
As she can ride in a long summers day.