“ The king sat high on his royal throne,
⁠Though his hairs were grey, his arm was strong,
“Good cousin,” he said, in a jocund tone,
⁠“Is it thou or thy steed that has stay’d so long?
“But it boots not now—Bring forth the bride!
⁠Thou hast never yet my daughter seen;
A woeful fate it is thine to bide,
⁠For her hair is red and her eyes are green!
The brido came forth in a costly veil,
⁠And nought of her face could Alfred see;
But his cheek grew yet more deadly pale,
⁠And he fell down faltering upon his knee:
“Pardon! pardon! my liege, my king! ”

“ And she hid her face in her lover’s arms,
⁠With feelings best left untold.
Then slowly rose she in her bower,
⁠With something of pride and scorn,
And she look’d like a tall and dewy flower
⁠That lifts up its head to the morn. ”

“ And aye she made the trumpet sound,
⁠It’s a’ fair play.
Come a’ ye English gentlemen,
⁠That is of England born;
Come na doun to Scotland,
⁠For fear ye get the scorn.
They’ll feed ye up wi’ flattering words,
⁠And that’s foul play;
And they’ll dress you frogs instead of fish,
⁠Just on your wedding day
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago. ”