Sweet William rose one morning bright    And dressed himself in blue    "Come tell to me the long lost love    Between Lady Margaret and you"       "I know no harm of Lady Margaret," said he    "And I hope she knows none of me    But tomorrow morning before eight o'clock    Lady Margaret my bride shall be"       As Lady Margaret was in her chamber high    A-combing up her hair    She spied sweet William and his bride    As they to the church drew near       She threw down her ivory comb    And tossed back her hair    And from the room a fair lady came    That was seen in there no more       The day being gone and the night being come    When most men were asleep    Sweet William spied Lady Margaret's ghost    A-standing at his bed feet       "How do you like your bed?" she said    "And how do you like your sheet?    And how do you like the fair lady    That lies in your arms asleep?"       "Very well do I like my bed," said he    "Very well do I like my sheet    But better do I like the fair lady    That is standing at my bed feet"       The night being gone and the day being come    When most men were awake    Sweet William said he was troubled in his head    From a dream he had last night       He called his weary waiting maids    By one, by two, by three    And last of all, with his bride's consent    Lady Margaret he went to see       He went unto the parlor door    He knocked until he made things ring    But none was so ready as her own dear brother    To arise and let him in       "Is Lady Margaret in the parlor?" said he    "Or is she in the hall    Or is she in her chamber high    Among the gay ladies all?"       "Lady Margaret is not in the parlor," said he    "She is neither in the hall    She is in her coffin    And a-lying by the wall"       "Tear down, tear down, those milk white sheets    They are made of silk so fine    That I may kiss Lady Margaret's cheek    For ofttimes she has kissed mine"       The first that he kissed was her rosy cheek    The next was her dimpled chin    The last of all was her clay-cold lips    That pierced his heart within       "Tear down, tear down those milk white sheets    They are made of silk so fine    Today they hang around Lady Margaret's corpse    And tomorrow they will hang around mine"       Lady Margaret died of pure, pure love    Sweet William died of sorrow    They are buried in one burying ground    Both side and side together       Out of her grave grew a red rose    And out of his a briar    They grew in a twining true lover's knot    The rose and the green briar