Lady Isobel And The Elf Knight


It's of a false knight from the North
Who came a-courting me
He promised he'd take me unto the North land
And there his bride would be

Go fetch me some of your father's gold
And some of your mother's fee
And two of the finest horses they have in the stable
For they have ten and thirty and three

So she fetched some of her father's gold
And some of her mother's fee
And two of the finest horses they had in the stable
For they had ten and thirty and three

Then she got up on the noble brown
And he on the dappled gray
And they rode till they came to a broad waterside
Two long hours before it was day

Lie down, lie down, my Pretty Polly
Lie down, lie down, said he
For it's six king's daughters I have drowned here
And it's you the seventh will be

Now strip yourself, my Pretty Polly
Now strip yourself, said he
For your clothing's too rich and ever-costly
For to rot in the salt of the sea

Well turn your back to the leaves on the tree
And face the salt water sea
For it's not very right such a false-hearted youth
A naked woman should see

So he turned his back to the leaves on the tree
And faced the salt-water sea
And with all the strength pretty Polly she had
She pushed him into the sea

Oh help me, oh help me, my pretty Polly
Oh help me, oh help me, cried he
And I shall become your waiting man
I shall wait on you night and day

Oh no, oh no, you false-hearted youth
Oh no, that never can be
If it's six king's daughters you've drowned here
You can rule o'er your company

Then she got up on the noble brown
And led the dappled gray
And she rode till she came to her father's hall
Two long hours before it was day

Then up bespoke her poll parrot
All from its cage so gay
Why do you travel, my pretty Polly
So long before it is day

Then up bespoke her old father
All from his room so grey
Why do you chatter, my poll parrot
So long before it is day

The cat was up and about my cage
And I could not get away
So I called unto Miss Pretty Polly
For to drive the cat away

Well turned, well turned, my poll parrot
Well turned, well turned, cried she
For your cage I will make of the finest gold
And your door, fine ivory

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