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Child Ballad 7
| C | Am | G7 | C | |
| Rise up, rise | up, you | seven sleep | ers, |
| G | Am | |
| And do take a | warning of | me, |
| C | F | |
| Do watch after your | eldest sister, |
| G7 | C | |
| The | youngest is going with | me. |
Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
And bring your sister down;
It'll never be said that a steward's son
Had carried her out of town.
I thank you kindly, sir, said he,
But I am no steward's son;
My father is a regis king
And my mother a Quaker queen.
He mounted her on the bonny, bonny black,
Himself on the ample grey,
And he threw his bugle all round her neck
And they went singing away.
Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
Put on your arms so bright,
It'll never be said that a daughter of mine
Did sleep with a lord all night.
They were not three miles out of town
When he looked back again,
And he saw her father and seven brethren
Come a-trippling o'er the plain.
Light down, light down, Lady Margit, he said,
And hold my horse for awhile,
While I fight your seven bretheren
And your father a-walking so nigh.
And she held, and she held so still,
Nor never did speak a word,
Not even when she seen her seven brethren
Go a-tumbling in their blood.
And she held, and she bitter, bitter, held,
Nor never a word did speak.
Until she seen her father's head
Come a-tumbling by her feet.
O, hold your hand, love William, she said,
For your stroke is now full score;
It's many the true love I might have
But a father I have no more.
If you ain't pleased, Lady Margit, he said,
If you ain't pleased, said he;
You oughta stayed in your father's house
And me in a chambery.
But you must choose, Lady Margit, he said,
Will you go with me, he cried,
I'll go with, love William, she said,
For you left me without a guide.
Then wind you east and wind you west,
I'll wind along with thee,
So he hung his bugle all round her neck
And he went bleeding away.
They rode till they come to his mother's gate,
And he tingled at the pin;
Mother, mother, asleep or awake,
Arise and let us in.
Sister, sister, go make my bed,
For my wound is now full sore;
Mother, mother, bind up my head,
For me you'll bind no more.
Father, father, go dig my grave;
Dig it wide and deep;
And place Lady Margit in my arms,
Together that we may sleep.
Love William died as 'twas midnight;
Lady Margit just at day;
And I hope every couple that ever do love
May see more pleasure than they.
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