  MY lady she rose from her bower, her bower, All under the linden tree. 'Twas midnight past, and the fairies' hour, And up and away must she. She's pulled on her slippers of golden yellow, Her mantle of gossamer green; And she's away to the elfin court, To wait on the elfin queen. Oh hone! my lady's slipper, Oh hey! my lady's shoe. She's lost its fellow, so golden yellow, A-tripping it over the dew. And now she flitted, and now she stepped, Through dells of the woodland deep, Where owls were flying awake, awake, And birds were sitting asleep. And now she flitted, and now she trod, Where the mist hung shadowy-white; And the river lay gleaming, sleeping, dreaming, Under the sweet moonlight. Oh hone! my lady's slipper, Oh hey! my lady's shoe. She's lost its fellow, so golden yellow, A-tripping it over the dew. And now she passed through the wild marsh-land, Where the marsh-elves lay asleep; And a heron blue was their watchman true, Good watch and ward for to keep. But Jack-in-the-Pulpit was wake, awake, And saw my lady gay; And he reached his hand as she fluttered past, And caught her slipper away. Oh hone! my lady's slipper, Oh hey! my lady's shoe. She's lost its fellow, so golden yellow, A-tripping it over the dew. Oh! long that lady she searched and prayed, And long she wept and besought; But all would not do, and with one wee shoe She must dance at the elfin court. But she might have found her slipper, her slipper, It shone so golden-gay; For I am no elf, yet I found it myself, And I brought it home to-day. Oh hone! my lady's slipper, Oh hey! my lady's shoe. She's lost its fellow, so golden yellow, A-tripping it over the dew. |
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