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“Sweet William’s Ghost” is an equal parts creepy and heartbreaking ballad. It tells the tale of Lady Margaret and the ghost of her lover William, who, unbeknownst to her, has died in Scotland. William’s ghost returns to her to beg her to give him back his plighted troth (a sign of their engagement), so that he can rest in peace. Complete with ghostly apparitions appearing in a bedchamber, graveyard gates swinging open “by their own free will,” and the tragedy of lost love, it’s an archetypal ghost story. This ballad comes to us from the British Isles, and there are many variations on its tune and text. It's catalogued as Child Ballad #77. I was guided by beautiful versions by Len Graham, Helen Diamond, and Paddy Tunney. If you enjoy this, I’d love if you subscribe to my channel, and find me on IG and TikTok @TheSnakeSaidToTheRiver •*• Text •*• Lady Margaret she lay on her fine feather bed, The midnight hour drew near, When a ghostly form came to her room, And to her it did appear, appear, And to her it did appear. “Are you my father, the king?” she said, “Are you my brother John? Or are you my true love William Home at last from Scotland along, along, Home at last from Scotland along.” “I’m not your father, the king,” he said, “I’m not your brother John, But I am your true love William, Home at last, but lost and gone, lost and gone, Home at last, but lost and gone.” “Oh Margaret, my Lady Margaret,” he said, “For love or charity, Will you give me back the plighted troth That once, love, I gave to thee, gave to thee, That once, love, I gave to thee?” “I’ll not give you back your plighted troth Or any such a thing, Till you bring me to my own father’s hall Where together we have been, have been, Where together we have been.” So he took her to her own father’s hall, And as they entered in The gates flew open of their own free will For to let sweet William in, let him in, For to let sweet William in. “Oh Margaret, my Lady Margaret,” he said, “For love or charity, Will you now give me back the plighted troth That once, love, I gave to thee, gave to thee, That once, love I gave to thee?” “I’ll not give you back your plighted troth, Or any such a thing, Till you bring me to your own bright hall And marry me with a ring, a ring, And marry me with a ring.” He took her to yon high graveyard, And as they entered in, The gates flew open of their own free will For to let sweet William in, let him in, For to let sweet William in. “Oh Margaret, my Lady Margaret,” he said, “For love or charity, “You must now give me back the plighted troth That once, love, I gave to thee, gave to thee, That once, love I gave to thee.” Then out of her pocket she drew the ring, She laid it on his breast, Saying, “Here is back your plighted troth, And now may your soul find rest, find rest, And now may your soul find rest.” “Oh the winds do blow and the moorcock crow It’s nearly breaking day, And it’s time that the living should be parted from the dead, So now, love, I must away, away, So now, love, I must away.” #spookyseason #ghost #harp #traditionalmusic #bard