O, Young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide border his steed was the best;
And save his good broad sword he weapon had none,
He rode all unarmed and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone,
He swan the Eske river where ford there was none;
But ‘ere he alighted at Netherby gate,
The bride had consented, the gallant came late:
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of Brave Lochinvar.
So boldly he entered the Nethby hall,
Among bride’s men, and kinsmen and brothers and all;
Then spoke the bride’s father, his hand on his sword,
For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,
O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal young lord Lochinvar.
I long wood your daughter my suit you denied,
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide,
And now I am come with this lost love of mine,
To tread but one measure, drink one cup of wine,
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.
The bride kissed the goblet the knight took it up,
He quaffed off the wine and he threw down the cup;
She looked down to blush and she looked up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ‘ere her mother could bar-
Now tread we a measure said young Lochinvar.
So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace;
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;
And the bride-maidens whispered, it was better by far,
To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.
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