The king he has been a poor prisoner
A prisoner lang in Spain
And Willie o' the Winsbury
Has lain lang wi' his daughter at hame

"What troubles you, my daughter dear
You look so pale and wan
Oh, have you had any sore sickness
Or yet been sleepin' wi' a man?"

"I have not had any sore sickness
Nor yet been sleepin' wi' a man
It is for you, my father dear,
For bidin' sae lang in Spain"

"Cast off, cast off your berry-brown gown
Stand naked upon a stane
That I may ken you by your shape
Whether you be a maiden or nae"

So she's cast off her berry-brown gown
Stood naked upon a stane
Her haunches were round and her apron ran short
Her cheeks they were pale and wan

"Oh is he a laird or a duke or a knight
Or a man of birth or fame
Or is he one aw ma servin' men
That's lately come out of Spain?"

"Oh he's nae a laird nor a duke nor a knight
Nor a man of birth or fame
For he is Willie o' Winsbury
I could bide nae langer ma lain"

The king, he has sent for his merry men all
His merry men thirty and three
Saying "Bring me Willie O Winsbury
For hangeth he shall be"

And when he came the king before
He was clad in the red silk
His hair was like the strands of gold
His cheeks they were white as milk

"It is nae wonder," the king, he said
"My daughter's love you did win
Had I been a woman, as I am a man
My bed-fellow you would have been"

"And will you marry my daughter Janet
By the truth of your right hand?
And will you marry my daughter Janet
And be a laird of the land"

"Oh, I will marry your daughter Janet
By the truth of my right hand
Yes, I will marry your daughter Janet
But I won't be a laird of your land"

He's mounted her on a milk-white steed
Himself on a dapple grey
And he's made her a lady of as much land
As she can ride on a lang summer's day