Little Margaret, sitting at her high hall door,
Combing back her long, yellow hair,
When she saw Sweet William and his new-made bride
Riding from the church so near.
She throwed down her iv'ry comb,
Throwed back her long yellow hair,
Saying, "I'll go down and bid him farewell,
And nevermore go there."
It's day being gone and night coming on,
When most all men were asleep,
Little Margaret appeared all dressed in white,
A-standing at their bed-feet.
"How do you like your pillow," she asked him,
"How do you like your sheet?
How do you like that gay young lady
That's lying in your arms asleep?"
"Very well do I like my pillow," he answered,
"Much better do I like my sheet,
But best of all is that fair young maid
That's standing at my bed-feet."
Then night being gone and day coming on,
When most all men were awake,
Sweet William told how he's troubled to his soul
By a dream that he dreamed last night.
"Such dreams, such dreams, I do not like,
Such dreams, they are no good;
I dreamed my floor was covered with gore,
And my true love a-swimming in blood."
So he called his serving man to go
And saddle the dapple roan,
And he rode till he come to Lady Margaret's house,
He rode to her house alone.
"Is Lady Margaret in her room,
Or is she in the hall?"
"No, Little Margaret's in her coal-black coffin,
With her pale face turned to the wall."
Once he kissed her lily-white hand,
And twice he kissed her cheek,
Three times he kissed her cold corpsy lips
And fell in her arms asleep.