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Sweet William’s Ghost / Lady Margaret and Sweet William

[ Roud 50 ; Child 77 ; Ballad Index C077 ; Bodleian Roud 50 ; trad.]

David Herd: Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, Heroic Ballads, etc

George Deacon sang Sweet William’s Ghost in 1973 as the title track of his and Marion Ross’s Transatlantic album Sweet William’s Ghost. The album’s liner notes commented:

A text based on one in Ramsay’s Tea-Table Miscellany combined with an adaptation of a Newfoundland tune collected by Miss M. Karpeles. The crowing of the cock is the signal for the young man to return to his grave and is common in most ‘visitation’ songs.

Sally Killen sang Sweet William’s Ghost unaccompanied in 1975 on her and Louis Killen’s LP Bright Shining Morning. Louis Killen noted:

Sally has this ballad from Robin Morton’s Folksongs Sung in Ulster (Mercier Press, Cork, Eire, 1970), which he in turn collected from Sandy McConnell of Bellanaleek, County Fermanagh. Its drive, created through the repetitions, contrasts strongly with the better known version of this ghostly night-visiting song, Mrs. Cecilia Costello’s lyrical The Grey Cock. See also #77 in Child’s English & Scottish Popular Ballads.

Paddy Tunney sang Lady Margaret to Tony Engle and Tony Russell in the crypt of St John the Baptist, Kensington, London, in February 1975. This track was included in the same year on his Topic LP The Mountain Streams Where the Moorcocks Crow and in 1998 on the Topic anthology O’er His Grave the Grass Grew Green (The Voice of the People Series Vol. 3). Cathal Ó Baoill wrote in the original album’s sleeve notes:

This is a hexatonic lah mode version of the well known English ballad Lady Margaret and Sweet William. This ballad is by no means alone in its popularity among Irish singers as a song of foreign origin. The magic of such songs as this, Lord Randall, Edward, The Cruel Mother and so on, was strong enough not only to go with the English to America and Australia but to break into the popular repertoire of the native Irish. Strangely enough, the song repertory of Ireland is not very well supplied with ghost stories, for all the popularity of She Moved Through the Fair, and it may be the ghosts in the Cruel Ship’s Carpenter and this ballad that made them particularly attractive.

Lisa Null sang Sweet William’s Ghost in 1977 on her and Bill Shute’s Folk-Lagacy album The Feathered Maiden & Other Ballads. She noted:

The version I sing of Sweet William’s Ghost (Child #77) is based on the singing of Mike Kent of Cape Broyle, Newfoundland. It was collected as Lady Margaret in 1951 by Kenneth Peacock in Songs of the Newfoundland Outports, vol 2. I love the way it deals with the continuance of love and commitment after death. William has to be relieved of the promise he made to marry Margaret who follows him over the hills walking and talking, even asking if she can be buried with him. It’s an old ballad, appearing in Allan Ramsay’s The Tea-Table Miscellany (1740) and Thomas Percy’s Reliques of Ancient English Poetry (1765).
Bill Shute accompanies this song on a guitar played like a hammered dulcimer.

Graham Shaw sang Sweet William’s Ghost on his 1978 Traditional Sound album I Am the Minstrel.

Peggy Seeger sang Sweet William’s Ghost in 1982 on her and Ewan MacColl’s album Blood & Roses Volume 2. They noted:

Our set of this ballad is from Newfoundland. It is a simplification of a story found throughout northern Europe. The Scots and Scandinavian versions and analogues are more complex than ours, involving the girl’s death (she often embraces the corpse and enters the grave with him), the cock crowing, long interrogations as to the nature of heaven and hell. The surviving motifs central to all these ballads is very clear: that love is strong enough to pull the dead back from the grave and that the dead may not sleep peacefully until wrong done to the living has been righted.

Len Graham sang Sweet William’s Ghost in 1984 on his Claddagh album with Fintan McManus, Ye Lovers All. He noted:

Sandy McConnell of Bellanaleck, County Fermanagh, was my source for this version of Sweet William’s Ghost. It appears as no. 77 in the Child collection. Sweet William is dead and he visits his lover in ghostly form. As the cock crows the troth is returned and only then does William’s soul find rest.

Nick Dow learned Sweet William’s Ghost from the singing of Paddy Tunney and sang it in 1986 on his album A Mark Upon the Earth.

Peta Webb sang Sweet William’s Ghost in a spring 1989 recording made by John Howson. It was included in 2003 on her Musical Tradition CD The Magpie’s Nest.

Sara Grey sang Sweet William’s Ghost in 1990 on her Harbourtown album Promises to Keep.

Hughie Jones sang Sweet William’s Ghost in a January 1992 recording by Paul Adams on the Fellside anthology of English traditional songs, Voices. Paul Adams noted:

Hughie regards this as one of the classic English folk songs. It is No. 77 in Child’s English & Scottish Popular Ballads. Child asserts that the story has much in common with a supernatural ballad well known in Scandinavia. This particular version was given to Hughie by Bert Lloyd in 1966. As a member of The Spinners Hughie was instrumental in taking folk songs to a mass audience worldwide. He always made a point wherever possible of singing a traditional unaccompanied ballad at concerts. He now performs as a solo artist.

Maggie Boyle sang Lady Margaret in 1998 on her album Gweebarra. She noted:

I heard Mike Hockenhull sing this at Whitby Festival 1997, and was transfixed. Generous as always with his knowledge and material, he passed it on to me.

Dave Webber and Anni Fentiman sang Lady Margaret in 2002 on their album Away From It All. They noted:

Louis Killen gave us this version of this great ballad from a collection of Irish street ballads.

Kate Rusby sang Sweet William’s Ghost on her 2003 album Underneath the Stars.

Rattle on the Stovepipe sang Willie’s Ghost in 2006 on their WildGoose CD Eight More Miles. They noted:

The idea of the revenant has always held an ambivalent fascination for the living, and however much we might smile at our medieval ancestors gullibility in believing in such matters, we still pass on modern urban legends like The Ghostly Hitch-Hiker. And who didn’t have a sniffle over Juliet Stevenson’s and Alan Rickman’s portrayals of grief stricken lover and supernatural returnee in Truly Madly Deeply?

In popular belief excessive, prolonged, grief is one of the guaranteed ways of receiving a visit from a dead loved one, bound to the earth by emotional chains. Ballads and folktales are full of such notions. The Wife of Usher’s Well laments her children’s deaths so inconsolably that they are dragged back as revenants. Two other things can also produce revenants: lovers’ promises, or troths; binding beyond the grave, or a dissolute, wicked life prior to death. In Willie’s Ghost (Sweet William’s Ghost) (Child Ballad No 77) it’s both of these that brings Willie’s shrouded corpse back to Margaret seeking redemption. Like several other important British ballads, Sweet William’s Ghost first appeared in print in Ramsay’s Tea-Table Miscellany, Vol. 4 (Edinburgh 1740).

This Appalachian version was learnt by Dave [Arthur] in 2000 from North Carolina ballad singer and storyteller Bobby McMillon, in exchange for a version of Tam Lin, over the breakfast table in Tunbridge Wells. Bobby, apart from being a delightful person, is a remarkable walking repository of North Carolina folklore, ballads, and tales, and is the worthy recipient of the North Carolina Arts Council Folk Heritage Award. On checking back, after making this recording, Dave found that the words had changed hardly at all since that breakfast exchange: the tune, however, appears to have become a victim of the folk process.

Rachel Newton sang Lady Margaret in 2008 on The Shee’s first CD, A Different Season.

James Findlay sang Lady Margaret in 2009 on his first album, As I Carelessly Did Stray. He noted:

Child no. 77. Lady Margaret or Sweet William’s Ghost. Child’s earliest version dates from 1740, but I learned this from Paddy Tunney’s version recorded in 1975. Here William is nagging Margaret to return his ‘troth’ so that his soul may rest. Shakespeare alludes to the exchange of betrothal rings in Twelfth Night.

Cara recorded Sweet William’s Ghost in 2010 for their album Long Distance Love. They noted:

This version of the well-known ballad about Lady Margaret and her lover William hails from Co Fermanagh, Ireland. Patricia Clark taught us the song when we toured together in 2009 and we loved it!

Said the Maiden sang Sweet William’s Ghost on their 2017 CD Here’s a Health. They noted:

The ghost of a soldier lures his lover into an early grave. Based on various versions of the traditional song, cut up and glued together with a new tune.

Helen Diamond sang Lady Margaret on her 2018 eponymous first album Helen Diamond. She noted:

A version of Sweet William’s Ghost (Child 77) I originally learned from a Paddy Tunney recording. Thomas McCarthy has generously made the text of his fantastic version available online. I researched the versions collected by Francis James Child in The English and Scottish Popular Ballads. This is a mixture of all the above.

Kelly Oliver sang Lady Margaret on her 2018 CD Botany Bay. She noted:

Collected in Hertfordshire, early 18^th century.

William promised himself to Lady Margaret but then married another woman. Margaret dies of heartbreak and comes back as a ghost to haunt him…

Green Ribbons sang Lady Margaret in 2019 on their eponymous CD Green Ribbons. Debbie Armour noted:

I learned this from a recording of the wonderful Paddy Tunney, made in the crypt of a London church. He’s one of my favourite singers. Born in Glasgow, as it goes, he did some jail time in the 40s for “illegal nationalist activities”…

Fay Hield sang Sweet William’s Ghost in 2020 on her Topic album Wrackline. She noted:

Learnt from the mighty Maggie Boyle, both this version of the song and the distress of losing a dearly loved one.

Alasdair Roberts and Völvur sang Sweet William’s Ghost on their 2021 Drag City album The Old Fabled River.

Lyrics

Paddy Tunney sings Lady Margaret

Lady Margaret she lay on her fine feather bed,
The midnight hour drew nigh,
When the ghostly form came to her room,
And to her it did appear, appear,
And to her it did appear.

“Are you my father, the king?” she said,
“Are you my brother John?
Or are you my true love William,” she said,
Coming home from Scotland along, along,
Coming home from Scotland along?”

“I’m not your father, the king,” he said,
“Nor am I your brother John,
But I am your sweetheart William,” he said,
Coming home from Scotland along, along,
Coming home from Scotland along.”

“Oh Margaret, oh Lady Margaret,” he said,
“For love or charity,
Will you give me back the plighted troth
That once, love, I gave thee, gave thee,
That once, love, I gave thee?”

“I’ll not give you back your plighted troth
Or any such a thing,
Until you bring me to my father’s hall
Where ofttimes we have been, have been,
Where ofttimes we have been.”

And he took her then to her own father’s hall,
And as they entered in
The gates flew open of their own free will
For to let young William in, in,
For to let young William in.

“Oh Margaret, oh Lady Margaret,” he said,
“For love or charity,
Will you give me back the treasure trove
That once, love, I gave thee, gave thee,
That once, love, I gave thee?”

“I’ll not give you back your treasure trove
Or any such a thing,
Until you bring me to my own father’s hall
And marry me with a ring, a ring,
And marry me with a ring.”

He took her then to yon high churchyard,
And as they entered in
The gates flew open of their own sweet will
For to let young William in, in,
For to let young William in.

“Oh Margaret, oh Lady Margaret,” he said,
“For love or charity,
Will you give me back the plighted troth
That once, love, I gave thee, gave thee,
That once, love, I gave thee?”

Then out of her pocket she drew a cross
And she laid it on his breast,
Saying, “Here is back your plighted troth,
In Heaven may your soul find rest, find rest,
In Heaven may your soul find rest.”

“Oh the winds do blow and the moorcock crow
And it’s nearly breaking day,
And it’s time that the living should part from the dead,
So now, my love, I must away, away,
So now, my love, I must away.”

Lisa Null sings Sweet William’s Ghost

Lady Margaret was sitting in her own lone home
Made of lime and stone,
Lady Margaret was sitting in her own lone home
When she heard a dead man moan.

“Oh is it my father, Lord Thomas,” she said,
“Or is it my brother John?
Or is it my true love, Sweet William,
From Scotland home has come?”

“’Tis not your father, Lord Thomas,” he said,
“Nor is it you brother John,
But it is your true love, Sweet William,
From Scotland home has come.”

“Did you bring to me any diamonds or pearls?
Did you bring to me any ring?
Did you bring to me any token at all
That a true love ought to bring?”

“I have brought to you no diamonds or pearls,
I’ve brought to you no ring.
But I’ve brought to you my white winding sheet
That my body was buried in.”

“Oh love where are your red rosy cheeks
That oft times once did bloom?”
“Oh they now are rotten and they will be forgotten
By the love I lost so soon.”

He took her by the lily-white hand
And bid him company,
He took her by the middle so small
Saying, “Follow, follow me.”

She lifted her underskirts one by one
Just about the knee,
She went over the hills on a cold winter’s night
In a dead man’s company.

They walked and they talked alone together
Till the cocks began to crow.
“O it’s time for the dead and the living to part,
Lady Margaret I must go.”

“Is there any room at your head?” she said,
“Is there any room at your feet?
Is there any room all about your sides
Where I might lie down and sleep?”

“My father is at my head,” he said,
“My mother is at my feet,
And there’s three hell hounds all about my sides
Where I would lie down and sleep.”

“One is for my drunkenness,
One is for my pride.
And one is for promising a fair, pretty maid
That she might be my bride.”

She took a cross all from her bosom
And smoted him upon the breast,
Saying, “Here is a token for you, Sweet William,
God grant you a happy night’s rest.”

“I am grateful to you, Lady Margaret,” he said,
“I’m grateful unto you;
If the dead they are bound to pray for the living
Then I’m bound to pray for you.”

“When will we meet?” Lady Margaret she said,
“When will we meet?” said she.
“Well I hope the very next time we do meet
In heaven we both shall be.”

Peggy Seeger sings Sweet William’s Ghost

Lady Margaret sitting in her own lone home
Alone, O all alone,
When she thought she heard a dismal cry,
She heard a deadly moan.

“Is it my father Thomas,” she said,
“Or is it my brother John?
Or is it my love, my own dear Willie
Come home to me again?”

“I am not your father Thomas,” he said.
“Nor am I your brother John;
But I am your love, your own dear Willie
Come home to you again.”

“Then where are the red and rosy cheeks
That even in winter bloom?
And where are the long and yellow hair
Of the love I lost too soon?”

“The ground have rotten them off, my dear.
For the worms are quick and free;
And when you’re so long lying in your grave
The same will happen thee.”

He took her by her lily-white hand
And begged her company;
He took her by her apron band
Says, “Follow, follow me.”

She took her underskirts one by one
And wrapped them above her knee.
And she’s over the hills on a winter’s night
In a dead man’s company.

They walked, they walked to the old churchyard
Where the grass grow grassy green;
“Here’s the home where I live now
The bed I do lie in.”

“Is there any room at your head, my love,
Is there any room at your feet?
Is there any room about you at all
For me to lie down and sleep?”

“My father is at my head, dear girl,
My mother is at my feet.
Upon my heart are three hell-hounds
Bound my soul to keep.

“One is for my drunkenness
And another is for my pride,
And one is for promising a pretty fair girl
That she should be my bride.”

She took the cross from all on her bosom
And smoted him on the breast,
“Here’s your token I kept so long
God send you a happy rest.”

“Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, my love.
Farewell, dear girl,” said he;
“If ever the dead may pray for the living
My love, I’ll pray for thee.”

Len Graham sings Sweet William’s Ghost

Lady Margaret she lay on her fine feather bed,
The midnight hour drew near,
When a ghostly form came to her room
and to her did appear, appear,
And to her did appear.

“Are you my father the king?” she said,
“Or are you my brother John?
Or are you my true love William,” she said,
“Coming home from Scotland along, along,
Coming home from Scotland along?”

“I am not your father the king,” he said,
“nor am I your brother John,
But I am your true love William,“ he said,
“Coming home from Scotland along, along.
Coming home from Scotland along.”

“Oh Margaret, oh Lady Margaret,“ he said,
“For love or charity,
Will you bring to me the plighted troth
That once love I gave thee, gave thee,
That once love I gave thee?”

“I ’ll not give you back your plighted troth,
Nor any such a thing.
Until you take me to my own father’s hall,
Where oft times we have been, have been,
Where oft times we have been.”

He took her to her own father’s hall
And, as they entered in,
The gates flew open of their own free will
To let young William in,
To let young William in.

“Oh Margaret, oh Lady Margaret,“ he said,
For love or charity,
Will you give to me the plighted troth
That once love I gave thee, gave thee,
That once love I gave thee?”

“I ’ll not give you back your plighted troth,
Nor any such a thing,
Until you take me to my own father’s hall
And marry me with a ring, a ring,
And marry me with a ring.”

He took her to her own father’s hall
And there they entered in,
And they joined their hands in wedlock bands,
He married her with a ring, a ring,
He married her with a ring.

“Oh Margaret, oh Lady Margaret,“ he said,
“For love or charity,
Will you give to me the plighted troth
That once love I gave thee, gave thee,
That once love I gave thee?”

Then out of her pocket she drew a cross
And she laid it on his breast,
Saying, “Here is back your plighted troth,
In heaven your soul find rest, find rest,
In heaven your soul find rest.”

“The wind may blow and the cocks may crow
And it ’s nearly breaking day,
And it’s time that the living would depart from the dead.
My love I must away, away,
My love I must away.”

Peta Webb sings Sweet William’s Ghost

Lady Margaret she lay on her fine feather bed,
The midnight hour drew near,
When the ghostly form came to her room,
And to her it did appear, appear,
And to her it did appear.

“Are you my father, the king?” she said,
“Are you my brother John?
Or are you my own sweet William,” she said,
Coming home from Scotland along, along,
Coming home from Scotland along?”

“No, I’m not your father, the king,” he said,
“Nor yet your brother John,
But I am your own sweet William,” he said,
Coming home from Scotland along, along,
Coming home from Scotland along.”

“Lady Margaret, oh Lady Margaret,” he said,
“For love or charity,
Would you give me back that true love vow
That once, love, I gave thee, gave thee,
That once, love, I gave thee?”

“No, I’ll not give you back your true love vow
Nor any such a thing,
Until you bring me to my father’s hall
Where ofttimes we have been, have been,
Where ofttimes we have been.”

So he took her then to her father’s hall,
And as they entered in
The doors flew open of their own sweet will
For to let young William in, in,
For to let young William in.

“Lady Margaret, oh Lady Margaret,” he said,
“For love or charity,
Would you give me back that true love vow
That once, love, I gave thee, gave thee,
That once, love, I gave thee?”

“No, I’ll not give you back your true love vow
Nor any such a thing,
Until you bring me to yon high churchyard
And wed me with a ring, a ring,
And wed me with a ring.”

Sp he took her then to yon high churchyard,
And as they entered in
The gates flew open of their own sweet will
For to let young William in, in,
For to let young William in.

“Lady Margaret, oh Lady Margaret,” he said,
“For love or charity,
Would you give me back that true love vow
That once, love, I gave thee, gave thee,
That once, love, I gave thee?”

Then from her pocket she drew a cross
And she’s placed it on his breast,
Saying, “Take you back your true love vow,
And may your soul find rest, find rest,
And may your soul find rest.”

“Now the winds do blow and the moorcocks crow
And it’s nearly breaking day,
And it’s time that the living should depart from the dead,
So my love, I must away, away,
So my love, I must away.”

Hughie Jones sings Sweet William’s Ghost

Lady Margaret sat in her low-roof room,
She was sewing all alone.
Till after the parting of midnight
She heard a mournful sound.

“O is it my father? Is it my mother?
Or is it my brother John?
Or is it my true love, young William
From London new come home?”

“O it’s not your father or mother,” he cried,

Nor yet your brother John,
But I am your true love, young William,
And I am not a living man.

“Fair Margaret, rare Margaret,
And Margaret of vanity,
Don’t ever love any other young man
The way that you loved me.”

“O that’s a promise that I’ll not give,
O no, that will not I
Till I have a kiss from your sweet lips
As in my arms you lie.”

“My lips they are so bitter, he said,
“My breath is earthy strong,
That if you was to cuddle me in your arms
Your time would not be long.”

Well, he’s took her by the apron string,
Said, “Dear love, follow me.”
And it’s over the hills on a fine summer night
In a dead man’s company.

Well, they ran till they came to the low church-yard
Where the grass grows rank and green.
He said, “Dear love, this is the place
Where my fair body dwells in.”

“Is there no room at your bed-head?
Is there no room at your feet?
Or is there no room at your right side
For a lady like me to sleep?”

“Three maids do lie at my right side
That I once promised to wed,
Three babes do lie at my bed-foot
That these three maidens had.”

“O what is this,” poor Margaret cries
That stands at your bed-head?”
“They are the three hounds of Hell,” he said,
“To guide the souls of the dead.”

Then up then crowed the milk-white cock
And up then crowed the grey,
And he vanished in the dew-wet ground
And she went weeping away.

Maggie Boyle sings Lady Margaret

Lady Margaret was sitting in her own warm home
’Twas built of lime and stone,
Lady Margaret was sitting in her own warm home
When she heard a dead man moan.

“Oh is it my father, Lord Thomas,” she said
“Or is it my brother John?
Or is it my true love, sweet William,
From Scotland home has come?”

“Well it is not your father, Lord Thomas, he said
“Nor is it your brother John,
But it is your true love, sweet William,
From Scotland home has come.”

“And did you bring for me any diamonds and pearls
Or did you bring me a ring?
Or did you bring any token at all
That a true love ought to bring?”

“Well I didn’t bring for you any diamonds and pearls
Neither did I bring you a ring,
But I brought to you my white winding sheet
That my body was buried in.”

“But love, where are your red rosy cheeks
That ofttimes once did bloom?”
“Oh they are all rotten and soon will be forgot
By the love I left so soon.”

And he’s taken her by the lily-white hand
And bade her company,
And he’s taken her by the middle so small,
Saying, “Follow, follow me.”

And she’s lifted her underskirts one by one
Just above her knee,
And she’s gone to the hills on a cold winter’s night
In a dead man’s company.

And they walked and they talked all on that night
’Til the cocks they began to crow.
“It is time for the dead and the living to part,
Lady Margaret, I must go.”

“Ah but is there any room at your head, she said,
Or is there room at your feet?
Or is there any room all ’round your side
Where I might lie down and sleep?”

“Oh my father is at my head, he said
And mother is at my feet,
And there’s three hellhounds all ’round my side
You can’t lie down and sleep.

“Oh one is for my drunkenness
And one is for my pride,
And one is for that sweet pretty miss
That I promised would be my bride.”

And she’s taken the cross from around her neck
And smote him upon his breast,
Saying, “A tall bed for you, my sweet William,
God grant you a happy night’s rest.”

“Well I’m thankful to you, Lady Margaret,” he said,
“I’m thankful unto you.
If the dead for the living folk may pray
I am bound to pray for you.

“And good night, good night, Lady Margaret,” he said,
“Good night, good night to thee.
And the very next time that we shall meet
In heaven we both shall be.”

Cara sing Sweet William’s Ghost

Lady Margaret she lay in her fine feather bed,
The midnight hour drew near,
When a ghostly form came to her bed
And to her did appear.

“Oh are you my father the king?” then she cried,
“Or are you my brother John?
Or are you my sweet William,
Coming home from Scotland along,
Coming home from Scotland along?”

“No I’m not your father the king,” then he cried,
“Nor am I your brother John.
But I’m your own sweet William,
Coming home from Scotland along,
Coming home from Scotland along.”

“Oh Margaret, oh Lady Margaret,” he cried,
“For love or for charity,
Will you give back to me that plighted troth
That once I gave to thee,
Oh, that once I gave to thee?”

“No I’ll not give you back that plighted troth
Nor any such a thing,
Until you take me to my father’s own hall
Where oft times we have been,
Where oft times we have been.”

“Fare thee well, my own true love,
Cold the wind does blow.
High, high the moon is o’er the moor,
Woe that I must go.”

So he took her to her father’s own hall
And as they entered in,
Well, the gates flew open of their own free will
For to let young William in,
For to let young William in.

“Oh Margaret, oh Lady Margaret,” he cried,
“For love or for charity,
Will you give back to me that plighted troth
That once I gave to thee,
That once I gave to thee?”

“No I’ll not give you back that plighted troth
Nor any such a thing,
Until you take me to yon high churchyard,
And there marry me with a ring,
And there marry me with a ring.”

“Fare thee well, my own true love,
Cold the wind does blow.
High, high the moon is o’er the moor,
Woe that I must go.”

So he took her to yon high churchyard,
And as they entered in,
Well the gates flew open of their own free will,
For to let young William in,
For to let young William in.

“Oh Margaret, oh Lady Margaret,” he cried,
“For love or for charity,
Will you give back to me that plighted troth
That once I gave to thee,
Oh that once I gave to thee?”

So she took the troth out from her breast,
She placed it on his chest,
Saying, “Here is you back that plighted troth
And in heaven may your soul find rest,
And in heaven may your soul find rest.”

“Now the north wind blows and the moorcocks crow
It’s almost the break of day,
And it’s time for the living to depart from the dead,
So my darling I must away,
My darling I must away.”

Fay Hield sings Sweet William’s Ghost

Lady Margaret was sitting in her own loyal bower
Built of lime and stone,
Lady Margaret was sitting in her own loyal bower
When she heard a dead man moan.

“Oh are you my father Lord Thomas?” she said,
“Are you my brother John?
Or are you my own love Sweet William
From Scotland home has come?”

“Oh I’m not your father Lord Thomas,” he said,
“Nor am I your brother John,
But I am your own love Sweet William
From Scotland home has come.”

“Have you brought for me any diamond or pearl?
Have you bright me a ring?
Or have you brought to me any token at all
That a true love ought to bring?.”

“No I haven’t brought to you any diamond or pearl
Nor have I brought you a ring,
But I give to you my own winding sheet
My body lies mouldering in.”

Crossing the field on a cold and stormy night
With her petticoat around her knee,
Crossing the field on a cold stormy night
In a dead man’s company.

When that they came to the old churchyard
The grass was growing green
“Here is my bed Lady Margaret,” he said,
“Where I must take a long sleep.”

“Oh is there any room at you head” she said,
“Is there room at your feet?
Is there any room about you at all
Where I might lie down and sleep”

“Oh father he’s at my head,” he said,
“Mother’s at my feet;
And the three hounds of hell lie at my side,
My soul they will all keep.

“One of them is for my drunkenness,
One is for my pride,
The last one is for all the fair pretty maids
And staying out late at night.”