The Rhymer Thomas lay by the brook,
 the pebbly brook by Huntly Castle.
 There he spied a fair-haired lady,
 who sat upon a white horse.
 
 She sat upon a white horse
 with a finely-braided mane,
 and brightly on each plait there hung
 a bright silver bell.
 
 And Tom the Rhymer took off his hat
 and fell to his knees, greeting her:
 "You are the Queen of Heaven!
 You are not of this world!"
 
 The fair-haired lady stopped her horse:
 "I will tell you who I am:
 I am not the Maid of Heaven -
 I am the Queen of Elves!
 
 Take your harp and play and sing,
 and let your best songs resound!
 But if you kiss my lips,
 You will be mine for seven years!"
 
 "So be it! Seven years, o Queen,
 to serve you - that hardly daunts me!"
 He kissed her and she kissed him,
 and a bird sang in the ash tree.
 
 "Now you are mine; now come with me -
 now you are mine for seven years."
 They rode off through the green woods -
 how happy the Rhymer was!
 
 They rode off through the green woods
 as birds sang and the sun shone;
 and whenever she pulled lightly on her reins 
 the litle bells rang brightly.