True Thomas lay oer yon grassy bank,
And he beheld a lady gay,
A lady that was brisk and bold,
Come riding over the fernie brae.
Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,
Her mantle of the velvet fine,
At every lock of her horse's mane
Hung fifty silver bells and nine.
True Thomas he took off his hat,
And bowed him low down to his knee:
'All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!
For your peer on earth I never did see.'
'O no, O no, True Thomas,' she says,
'That name does not belong to me;
I am but the queen of fair Elfland,
And I'm come here for to visit thee.
'But you must go with me now, Thomas,
True Thomas, You must go with me,
And you must serve me seven years,
Through weel or wae as may chance to be.'
She turned about her milk-white steed,
And took True Thomas up behind,
And aye whenever her bridle rang,
The steed flew swifter in the wind.
For forty days and forty nights
He wade thro red blood to the knee,
And he saw neither sun nor moon,
But heard the roaring of the sea.
O they rade on, and further on,
Until they came to a garden green;
'Light down, light down, you lady free,
Some of that fruit let me pull to thee.'
'O no, O no, True Thomas,' she says,
'That fruit must not be touched by thee,
For all the plagues that are in hell
Light on the fruit of this country.
'But I have a loaf here in my lap,
Likewise a bottle of claret wine,
And now ere we go farther on,
We'll rest a while, and you may dine.'
When he had eaten and drunk his fill,
'Lay down your head upon my knee,'
The lady said, 'ere we climb yon hill,
And I will show you wonders three.
'O see you not yon narrow road,
So thick beset with thorns and briers?
That is the path of righteousness,
Though after it but few enquires.
'And see not you that broad broad road,
That lies over yon lillie leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
Though some call it the road to heaven.
'And see you not that bonny road,
Which winds about the fernie brae?
That is the road to fair Elfland,
Where you and I this night must gae.
'But Thomas, you must hold your tongue,
Whatever you may hear or see,
For if a single word you should chance to speak,
You will never get back to your own country.'
He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,
And a pair of shoes of velvet green,
And till seven years were past and gone
True Thomas on earth was never seen.
- British traditional