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True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank
   A ferlie he spied wi' his e';
And there he saw a ladye bright
   Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.

Her shirt was o' the grass green silk,
fae    Her mantle o' the velvet fyne;
At ilka tett of her horse's mane
   Hung fifty siller bells and nine.

True Thomas, he pull'd aff his cap
   And louted low down to his knee:
All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!
   For thy peer on earth I never did see.

O no, O no, Thomas, she said,
   That name does not belang to me;
I am but the Queen of fair Elfland
   That am hither come to visit thee.

Harp and carp, Thomas, she said,
   Harp and carp along wi' me,
And if ye dare to kiss my lips,
   Sure of your bodie I will be.