Gloomy, gloomy was the night,
And eerie was the way,
As fair Janet, in her green mantle,
To Miles Cross she did gae.

About the dead hour o' the night
She heard the bridles ring,
And Janet was as glad o' that
As ony earthly thing.

There's haly water in her hand,
She casts a compass round;
And straight she sees a fairy band
Come riding o'er the mound.

And first gaed by the black, black steed,
And then gaed by the broun;
But fast she gript the milk-white steed,
And pu'd the rider doun.

She pu'd him frae the milk-white steed,
And loot the bridle fa';
And up there raise an elrish cry;
"He's won amang us a'!"

They shaped him in fair Janet's arms
An aske, but and an adder;
She held him fast in every shape,
To be her ain true lover.