The king has been a prisoner
And a prisoner long in Spain
And Willie of the Winsbury
Has lain long with his daughter at home

What ails, what ails, my daughter?
That you look so pale and wan
Or have you had the sickness
Or been sleeping with a man

Cast off, cast off your berry-brown gown
Stand naked on the stone
So I may know you by your shape
You can be a maiden or no

Was it with a lord, a duke or knight
Or a man of birth and fame
Or was it with one of my serving men
Lately out of Spain?

Now the king has called on his merry men
By thirty and by three
Fetch me this Willie of Winsbury
For hanged he shall be

But when he came the king before
He was clad all in red silk
His hair was like hooden strands
His skin was as white as milk, oh

"It is no wonder" said the king
That my daughter's love you did win
For if I were a woman
My bedfellow you would have been

Oh, will you marry my daughter
By the truth of your right hand
Oh yes, I will marry your daughter
But I'll not be the lord of your land

He's mounted her on a milk-white steed
And himself on a dapple grey
He made her the lady of as much land
She shall ride in a long summer's day