91. A beautiful plain, or common, lying along the Tay near Perth.—Chambers.
91. A beautiful plain, or common, lying along the Tay near Perth.—Chambers.
FromThe Thistle of Scotland, p. 100.
The editor states that he took the ballad down from the recitation of an old gentlewoman in Aberdeenshire.
Wou'd ye hear of William Wallace,An' sek him as he goes,Into the lan' of Lanark,Amang his mortel faes?There was fyften English sogers5Unto his ladie cam,Said "Gie us William Wallace,That we may have him slain."Wou'd ye gie William Wallace,That we may have him slain,10And ye's be wedded to a lord,The best in Christendeem.""This verra nicht at seven,Brave Wallace will come in,And he'll come to my chamber door,15Without or dread or din."The fyften English sogersAround the house did wait,And four brave Southron foragers,Stood hie upon the gait.20That verra nicht at sevenBrave Wallace he came in,And he came to his ladies bouir,Withouten dread or din.When she beheld him Wallace,25She star'd him in the face;"Ohon, alas!" said that ladie,"This is a woful case."For I this nicht have sold you,This nicht you must be taen,30And I'm to be wedded to a lord,The best in Christendeem.""Do you repent," said Wallace,"The ill you've dane to me?""Ay, that I do," said that ladie,35"And will do till I die."Ay, that I do," said that ladie,"And will do ever still,And for the ill I've dane to you,Let me burn upon a hill."40"Now God forfend," says brave Wallace,"I shou'd be so unkind;Whatever I am to Scotland's faes,I'm aye a woman's friend."Will ye gie me your gown, your gown,45Your gown but and your kirtle,Your petticoat of bonny brown,And belt about my middle?"I'll take a pitcher in ilka hand,And do me to the well,50They'll think I'm one of your maidens,Or think it is your sell."She has gien him her gown, her gown,Her petticoat and kirtle,Her broadest belt wi' silver clasp,55To bind about his middle.He's taen a pitcher in ilka hand,And dane him to the well,They thought him one of her maidens,They ken'd it was nae hersell.60Said one of the Southron foragers,"See ye yon lusty dame?I wou'd nae gie muckle to thee, neebor,To bring her back agen."Then all the Southrons follow'd him,65And sure they were but four;But he has drawn his trusty brand,And slew them pair by pair.He threw the pitchers frae his hands,And to the hills fled he,70Until he cam to a fair may,Was washin' on yon lea."What news, what news, ye weel far'd may?What news hae ye to gie?""Ill news, ill news," the fair may said,75"Ill news I hae to thee."There is fyften English sogersInto that thatched inn,Seeking Sir William Wallace;I fear that he is slain."80"Have ye any money in your pocket?Pray lend it unto me,And when I come this way again,Repaid ye weel shall be."She['s] put her hand in her pocket,85And taen out shillings three;He turn'd him right and round about,And thank'd the weel far'd may.He had not gone a long rig length,A rig length and a span,90Until he met a bold beggar,As sturdy as cou'd gang."What news, what news, ye bold beggar?What news hae ye to gie?""O heavy news," the beggar said,95"I hae to tell to thee."There is fyften English sogers,I heard them in yon inn,Vowing to kill him Wallace;I fear the chief is slain."100"Will ye change apparell wi' me, auld man?Change your apparell for mine?And when I come this way again,Ye'll be my ain poor man."When he got on the beggar's coat,105The pike staff in his hand,He's dane him down to yon tavern,Where they were drinking wine."What news, what news, ye staff beggar?What news hae ye to gie?"110"I hae nae news, I heard nae news,As few I'll hae frae thee.""I think your coat is ragged, auld man,But wou'd you wages win,And tell where William Wallace is,115We'll lay gold in your hand.""Tell down, tell down your good red gold,Upon the table head,And ye sall William Wallace see,Wi' the down-come of Robin Hood."120They had nae tauld the money down,And laid it on his knee,When candles, lamps, and candlesticks,He on the floor gar'd flee.And he has drawn his trusty brand,125And slew them one by one,Then sat down at the table head,And callèd for some wine.The goodwife she ran but, ran but,The goodman he ran ben,130The verra bairns about the fireWere a' like to gang brain."Now if there be a Scotsman here,He'll come and drink wi' me;And if there be an English loun,135It is his time to flee."The goodman was an Englishman,And to the hills he ran,The goodwife was a Scots woman,And she came to his hand.140
Wou'd ye hear of William Wallace,An' sek him as he goes,Into the lan' of Lanark,Amang his mortel faes?
There was fyften English sogers5Unto his ladie cam,Said "Gie us William Wallace,That we may have him slain.
"Wou'd ye gie William Wallace,That we may have him slain,10And ye's be wedded to a lord,The best in Christendeem."
"This verra nicht at seven,Brave Wallace will come in,And he'll come to my chamber door,15Without or dread or din."
The fyften English sogersAround the house did wait,And four brave Southron foragers,Stood hie upon the gait.20
That verra nicht at sevenBrave Wallace he came in,And he came to his ladies bouir,Withouten dread or din.
When she beheld him Wallace,25She star'd him in the face;"Ohon, alas!" said that ladie,"This is a woful case.
"For I this nicht have sold you,This nicht you must be taen,30And I'm to be wedded to a lord,The best in Christendeem."
"Do you repent," said Wallace,"The ill you've dane to me?""Ay, that I do," said that ladie,35"And will do till I die.
"Ay, that I do," said that ladie,"And will do ever still,And for the ill I've dane to you,Let me burn upon a hill."40
"Now God forfend," says brave Wallace,"I shou'd be so unkind;Whatever I am to Scotland's faes,I'm aye a woman's friend.
"Will ye gie me your gown, your gown,45Your gown but and your kirtle,Your petticoat of bonny brown,And belt about my middle?
"I'll take a pitcher in ilka hand,And do me to the well,50They'll think I'm one of your maidens,Or think it is your sell."
She has gien him her gown, her gown,Her petticoat and kirtle,Her broadest belt wi' silver clasp,55To bind about his middle.
He's taen a pitcher in ilka hand,And dane him to the well,They thought him one of her maidens,They ken'd it was nae hersell.60
Said one of the Southron foragers,"See ye yon lusty dame?I wou'd nae gie muckle to thee, neebor,To bring her back agen."
Then all the Southrons follow'd him,65And sure they were but four;But he has drawn his trusty brand,And slew them pair by pair.
He threw the pitchers frae his hands,And to the hills fled he,70Until he cam to a fair may,Was washin' on yon lea.
"What news, what news, ye weel far'd may?What news hae ye to gie?""Ill news, ill news," the fair may said,75"Ill news I hae to thee.
"There is fyften English sogersInto that thatched inn,Seeking Sir William Wallace;I fear that he is slain."80
"Have ye any money in your pocket?Pray lend it unto me,And when I come this way again,Repaid ye weel shall be."
She['s] put her hand in her pocket,85And taen out shillings three;He turn'd him right and round about,And thank'd the weel far'd may.
He had not gone a long rig length,A rig length and a span,90Until he met a bold beggar,As sturdy as cou'd gang.
"What news, what news, ye bold beggar?What news hae ye to gie?""O heavy news," the beggar said,95"I hae to tell to thee.
"There is fyften English sogers,I heard them in yon inn,Vowing to kill him Wallace;I fear the chief is slain."100
"Will ye change apparell wi' me, auld man?Change your apparell for mine?And when I come this way again,Ye'll be my ain poor man."
When he got on the beggar's coat,105The pike staff in his hand,He's dane him down to yon tavern,Where they were drinking wine.
"What news, what news, ye staff beggar?What news hae ye to gie?"110"I hae nae news, I heard nae news,As few I'll hae frae thee."
"I think your coat is ragged, auld man,But wou'd you wages win,And tell where William Wallace is,115We'll lay gold in your hand."
"Tell down, tell down your good red gold,Upon the table head,And ye sall William Wallace see,Wi' the down-come of Robin Hood."120
They had nae tauld the money down,And laid it on his knee,When candles, lamps, and candlesticks,He on the floor gar'd flee.
And he has drawn his trusty brand,125And slew them one by one,Then sat down at the table head,And callèd for some wine.
The goodwife she ran but, ran but,The goodman he ran ben,130The verra bairns about the fireWere a' like to gang brain.
"Now if there be a Scotsman here,He'll come and drink wi' me;And if there be an English loun,135It is his time to flee."
The goodman was an Englishman,And to the hills he ran,The goodwife was a Scots woman,And she came to his hand.140
From Fry'sPieces of Ancient Poetry, from unpublished Manuscripts and scarce Books(p. 51). Bristol, 1814.
"This ballad is taken from a modern quarto manuscript purchased at Glasgow of Messrs. Smith and Son in the year 1810, and containing several others, but written so corruptly as to be of little or no authority; appearing to be the text-book of some illiterate drummer, from its comprising the music of several regimental marches."
Fry did not observe that he was printing fragments of two different versions as one ballad. They are here separated.
I.
Johnny Cock, in a May morning,Sought water to wash his hands;And he is awa to louse his dogs,That's tied wi iron bans,That's tied wi iron bans.His coat it is of the light Lincum green,5And his breiks are of the same;His shoes are of the American leather,Silver buckles tying them.Silver buckles, &c.'He' hunted up, and so did 'he' down,Till 'he' came to yon bush of scrogs,10And then to yon wan water,Where he slept among his dogs.* * * * *Johnny Cock out-shot a' the foresters,And out-shot a' the three;Out shot a' the foresters,15Wounded Johnny aboun the bree."Woe be to you, foresters,And an ill death may you die!For there would not a wolf in a' the wood,Have done the like to me.20"For ''twould ha' put its foot in the coll water,And ha strinkled it on my bree;And gin [it] that would not have done,Would have gane and lett me be."I often took to my mother25The dandoo and the roe;But now I'l take to my motherMuch sorrow and much woe."I often took to my motherThe dandoo and the hare;30But now I'l take to my motherMuch sorrow and much care."
Johnny Cock, in a May morning,Sought water to wash his hands;And he is awa to louse his dogs,That's tied wi iron bans,That's tied wi iron bans.
His coat it is of the light Lincum green,5And his breiks are of the same;His shoes are of the American leather,Silver buckles tying them.Silver buckles, &c.
'He' hunted up, and so did 'he' down,Till 'he' came to yon bush of scrogs,10And then to yon wan water,Where he slept among his dogs.
* * * * *
Johnny Cock out-shot a' the foresters,And out-shot a' the three;Out shot a' the foresters,15Wounded Johnny aboun the bree.
"Woe be to you, foresters,And an ill death may you die!For there would not a wolf in a' the wood,Have done the like to me.20
"For ''twould ha' put its foot in the coll water,And ha strinkled it on my bree;And gin [it] that would not have done,Would have gane and lett me be.
"I often took to my mother25The dandoo and the roe;But now I'l take to my motherMuch sorrow and much woe.
"I often took to my motherThe dandoo and the hare;30But now I'l take to my motherMuch sorrow and much care."
18-24. Finlay furnishes one beautiful stanza which belongs to this portion of the story, and, as that editor remarks, describes expressively the languor of approaching death.There's no a bird in a' this foresteWill do as meikle for me,As dip its wing in the wan waterAn straik it on my ee-bree.Scottish Ballads, I. xxxi.
18-24. Finlay furnishes one beautiful stanza which belongs to this portion of the story, and, as that editor remarks, describes expressively the languor of approaching death.
There's no a bird in a' this foresteWill do as meikle for me,As dip its wing in the wan waterAn straik it on my ee-bree.
There's no a bird in a' this foresteWill do as meikle for me,As dip its wing in the wan waterAn straik it on my ee-bree.
Scottish Ballads, I. xxxi.
II.
Fifteen foresters in the braid alow,And they are wondrous fell;To get a drop of Johnny's heart bluid,They would sink a' their souls to hell.Johnny Cock has gotten word of this,5And he is wondrous keen;He['s] custan aff the red scarlet,And on 'wi' the Linkum green.And he is ridden oer muir and muss,And over mountains high,10Till he came to yon wan water;And there Johnny Cock did lie.He's taen out a horn from his side,And he blew both loud and shrill,Till a' the fifteen foresters15Heard Johnny Cock blaw his horn.They have sworn a bluidy oath,And they swore all in one,That there was not a man among them a',Would blaw such a blast as yon.20And they have ridden oer muir and muss,And over mountains high,Till they came to yon wan water,Where Johnny Cock did lie.They have shotten little Johnny Cock,25A little above the ee;* * * * *For doing the like to me."There's not a wolf in a' thewoodWoud 'ha' done the like to me:30'She'd ha' dipped her foot in coll water,And strinkled above my ee,And if I would have waked for that,'She'd ha' gane and let me be."But fingers five, come here, [come here,]35Andfaint heartfail me nought!And silver strings, value me sma' things,Till I get all this vengeance rowght!"He ha[s] shot a' the fifteen foresters,Left never a one but one;40And he broke the ribs a that anes side,And let him take tiding home.They have ridden oer muir and muss,And over mountains high,Till they met wi 'an' old palmer,45Was walking along the way."What news, what news, old palmer,What news have you to me?""Yonder is one of the proudest wed sonsThat ever my eyes did see.50* * * * *"* * a bird in a' the woodCould sing as I could say;It would go in to my mothersbower,And bid her kiss me, and take me away."
Fifteen foresters in the braid alow,And they are wondrous fell;To get a drop of Johnny's heart bluid,They would sink a' their souls to hell.
Johnny Cock has gotten word of this,5And he is wondrous keen;He['s] custan aff the red scarlet,And on 'wi' the Linkum green.
And he is ridden oer muir and muss,And over mountains high,10Till he came to yon wan water;And there Johnny Cock did lie.
He's taen out a horn from his side,And he blew both loud and shrill,Till a' the fifteen foresters15Heard Johnny Cock blaw his horn.
They have sworn a bluidy oath,And they swore all in one,That there was not a man among them a',Would blaw such a blast as yon.20
And they have ridden oer muir and muss,And over mountains high,Till they came to yon wan water,Where Johnny Cock did lie.
They have shotten little Johnny Cock,25A little above the ee;* * * * *For doing the like to me.
"There's not a wolf in a' thewoodWoud 'ha' done the like to me:30'She'd ha' dipped her foot in coll water,And strinkled above my ee,And if I would have waked for that,'She'd ha' gane and let me be.
"But fingers five, come here, [come here,]35Andfaint heartfail me nought!And silver strings, value me sma' things,Till I get all this vengeance rowght!"
He ha[s] shot a' the fifteen foresters,Left never a one but one;40And he broke the ribs a that anes side,And let him take tiding home.
They have ridden oer muir and muss,And over mountains high,Till they met wi 'an' old palmer,45Was walking along the way.
"What news, what news, old palmer,What news have you to me?""Yonder is one of the proudest wed sonsThat ever my eyes did see.50* * * * *
"* * a bird in a' the woodCould sing as I could say;It would go in to my mothersbower,And bid her kiss me, and take me away."
29. word.36. faint hearted.53. bows.
29. word.
36. faint hearted.
53. bows.
From Durfey'sPills to purge Melancholy, vi. 289.
The same is printed in Ritson'sAncient Songs(ed. 1790), p. 192, from a collation of two blackletter copies, one in the collection of the Duke of Roxburgh, and "another in the hands of John Baynes, Esq." Several stanzas are corrupted, and the names are greatly disfigured. Ritson mentions in a note a somewhat different ballad on the same subject, beginning:—
"Good Lord John is a hunting gone."
"Good Lord John is a hunting gone."
As it befel upon one time,About mid-summer of the year,Every man was taxt of his crime,For stealing the good Lord Bishop's mare.The good Lord Screw sadled a horse,5And rid after the same serime;Before he did get over the moss,There was he aware of Sir Hugh of the Grime."Turn, O turn, thou false traytor,Turn, and yield thyself unto me:10Thou hast stol'n the Lord Bishop's mare,And now thinkest away to flee.""No, soft, Lord Screw, that may not be;Here is a broad sword by my side,And if that thou canst conquer me,15The victory will soon be try'd.""I ne'er was afraid of a traytor bold,Altho' thy name be Hugh in the Grime;I'll make thee repent thy speeches foul,If day and life but give me time."20"Then do thy worst, good Lord Screw,And deal your blows as fast as you can;It will be try'd between me and youWhich of us two shall be the best man."Thus as they dealt their blows so free,25And both so bloody at that time,Over the moss ten yeomen they see,Come for to take Sir Hugh in the Grime.Sir Hugh set his back again[st] a tree,And then the men compast him round;30His mickle sword from his hand did flee,And then they brought Sir Hugh to the ground.Sir Hugh of the Grime now taken isAnd brought back to Garland town;Then cry'd the good wives all in Garland town,35"Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou'st ne'er gang down."The good Lord Bishop is come to town,And on the bench is set so high;And every man was tax'd to his crime,At length he called Sir Hugh in the Grime.40"Here am I, thou false Bishop,Thy humours all to fulfil;I do not think my fact so greatBut thou mayst put [it] into thy own will."The quest of jury-men was call'd,45The best that was in Garland town;Eleven of them spoke all in a breast,"Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou'st ne'er gang down."Then other questry-men was call'd,The best that was in Rumary;50Twelve of them spoke all in a breast,"Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou'st now guilty."Then came down my good Lord Boles,Falling down upon his knee;"Five hundred pieces of gold will I give,55To grant Sir Hugh in the Grime to me.""Peace, peace, my good Lord Boles,And of your speeches set them by;If there be eleven Grimes all of a name,Then by my own honour they all should dye."60Then came down my good Lady Ward,Falling low upon her knee;"Five hundred measures of gold I'll give,To grant Sir Hugh of the Grime to me.""Peace, peace, my good Lady Ward,65None of your proffers shall him buy;For if there be twelve Grimes all of a name,By my own honour [they] all should dye."Sir Hugh of the Grime's condemn'd to dye,And of his friends he had no lack;70Fourteen foot he leapt in his ward,His hands bound fast upon his back.Then he look'd over his left shoulder,To see whom he could see or 'spye;Then was he aware of his father dear,75Came tearing his hair most pitifully."Peace, peace, my father dear,And of your speeches set them by;Tho' they have bereav'd me of my life,They cannot bereave me of heaven so high."80He look'd over his right shoulder,To see whom he could see or 'spye;There was he aware of his mother dear,Came tearing her hair most pitifully."Pray have me remember'd to Peggy my wife,85As she and I walk'd over the moor,She was the cause of the loss of my life,And with the old bishop she play'd the whore."Here, Johnny Armstrong, take thou my sword,That is made of the metal so fine,90And when thou com'st to the Border side,Remember the death of Sir Hugh of the Grime."
As it befel upon one time,About mid-summer of the year,Every man was taxt of his crime,For stealing the good Lord Bishop's mare.
The good Lord Screw sadled a horse,5And rid after the same serime;Before he did get over the moss,There was he aware of Sir Hugh of the Grime.
"Turn, O turn, thou false traytor,Turn, and yield thyself unto me:10Thou hast stol'n the Lord Bishop's mare,And now thinkest away to flee."
"No, soft, Lord Screw, that may not be;Here is a broad sword by my side,And if that thou canst conquer me,15The victory will soon be try'd."
"I ne'er was afraid of a traytor bold,Altho' thy name be Hugh in the Grime;I'll make thee repent thy speeches foul,If day and life but give me time."20
"Then do thy worst, good Lord Screw,And deal your blows as fast as you can;It will be try'd between me and youWhich of us two shall be the best man."
Thus as they dealt their blows so free,25And both so bloody at that time,Over the moss ten yeomen they see,Come for to take Sir Hugh in the Grime.
Sir Hugh set his back again[st] a tree,And then the men compast him round;30His mickle sword from his hand did flee,And then they brought Sir Hugh to the ground.
Sir Hugh of the Grime now taken isAnd brought back to Garland town;Then cry'd the good wives all in Garland town,35"Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou'st ne'er gang down."
The good Lord Bishop is come to town,And on the bench is set so high;And every man was tax'd to his crime,At length he called Sir Hugh in the Grime.40
"Here am I, thou false Bishop,Thy humours all to fulfil;I do not think my fact so greatBut thou mayst put [it] into thy own will."
The quest of jury-men was call'd,45The best that was in Garland town;Eleven of them spoke all in a breast,"Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou'st ne'er gang down."
Then other questry-men was call'd,The best that was in Rumary;50Twelve of them spoke all in a breast,"Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou'st now guilty."
Then came down my good Lord Boles,Falling down upon his knee;"Five hundred pieces of gold will I give,55To grant Sir Hugh in the Grime to me."
"Peace, peace, my good Lord Boles,And of your speeches set them by;If there be eleven Grimes all of a name,Then by my own honour they all should dye."60
Then came down my good Lady Ward,Falling low upon her knee;"Five hundred measures of gold I'll give,To grant Sir Hugh of the Grime to me."
"Peace, peace, my good Lady Ward,65None of your proffers shall him buy;For if there be twelve Grimes all of a name,By my own honour [they] all should dye."
Sir Hugh of the Grime's condemn'd to dye,And of his friends he had no lack;70Fourteen foot he leapt in his ward,His hands bound fast upon his back.
Then he look'd over his left shoulder,To see whom he could see or 'spye;Then was he aware of his father dear,75Came tearing his hair most pitifully.
"Peace, peace, my father dear,And of your speeches set them by;Tho' they have bereav'd me of my life,They cannot bereave me of heaven so high."80
He look'd over his right shoulder,To see whom he could see or 'spye;There was he aware of his mother dear,Came tearing her hair most pitifully.
"Pray have me remember'd to Peggy my wife,85As she and I walk'd over the moor,She was the cause of the loss of my life,And with the old bishop she play'd the whore.
"Here, Johnny Armstrong, take thou my sword,That is made of the metal so fine,90And when thou com'st to the Border side,Remember the death of Sir Hugh of the Grime."
FromWit Restor'd, p. 132.
There dwelt a man in faire Westmerland,Jonne Armestrong men did him call,He had nither lands nor rents coming in,Yet he kept eight score men in his hall.He had horse and harness for them all,5Goodly steeds were all milke white,O the golden bands an about their necks,And their weapons they were all alike.Newes then was brought unto the king,That there was sicke a won as hee,10That livedlykea bold out-law,And robbed all the north country.The king he writt an a letter thenA letter which was large and long,He signed it with his owne hand,15And he promised to doe him no wrong.When this letter came Jonne untill,His heart it was as blythe as birds on the tree;"Never was I sent for before any king,My father, my grandfather, nor none but mee.20"And if wee goe the king before,I would we went most orderly;Every man of you shall have his scarlet cloak,Laced with silver laces three."Every won of you shall have his velvett coat,25Laced with sillver lace so white;O the golden bands an about your necks,Black hatts, white feathers, all alyke."By the morrow morninge at ten of the clock,Towards Edenburough gon was hee,30And with him all his eight score men,Good lord, it was a goodly sight for to see!When Jonne came befower the king,He fell downe on his knee;"O pardon my soveraine leige," he said,35"O pardon my eight score men and mee!""Thou shalt have no pardon, thou traytor strong,For thy eight score men nor thee;For to-morrow morning by ten of the clock,Both thou and them shall hang on the gallow tree."40But Jonne looked over his left shoulder,Good Lord, what a grevious look looked hee!Saying, "Asking grace of a graceles face—Why there is none for you nor me."But Jonne had a bright sword by his side,45And it was made of the mettle so free,That had not the king stept his foot aside,He had smitten his head from his fair boddé.Saying, "Fight on, my merry men all,And see that none of you be taine;50For rather then men shall say we were hanged,Let them report how we were slaine."Then, God wott, faire Eddenburrough rose,And so besett poore Jonne [a]rounde,That fowerscore and tenn of Jonnes best men,55Lay gasping all upon the ground.Then like a mad man Jonne laide about,And like a mad man then fought hee,Untill a falce Scot came Jonne behinde,And runn him through the faire boddee.60Saying, "Fight on, my merry men all,And see that none of you be taine;For I will stand by and bleed but a while,And then will I come and fight againe."Newes then was brought to young Jonne Armestrong,65As he stood by his nurses knee,Who vowed if er'e he lived for to be a man,O th' the treacherous Scots reveng'd hee'd be.
There dwelt a man in faire Westmerland,Jonne Armestrong men did him call,He had nither lands nor rents coming in,Yet he kept eight score men in his hall.
He had horse and harness for them all,5Goodly steeds were all milke white,O the golden bands an about their necks,And their weapons they were all alike.
Newes then was brought unto the king,That there was sicke a won as hee,10That livedlykea bold out-law,And robbed all the north country.
The king he writt an a letter thenA letter which was large and long,He signed it with his owne hand,15And he promised to doe him no wrong.
When this letter came Jonne untill,His heart it was as blythe as birds on the tree;"Never was I sent for before any king,My father, my grandfather, nor none but mee.20
"And if wee goe the king before,I would we went most orderly;Every man of you shall have his scarlet cloak,Laced with silver laces three.
"Every won of you shall have his velvett coat,25Laced with sillver lace so white;O the golden bands an about your necks,Black hatts, white feathers, all alyke."
By the morrow morninge at ten of the clock,Towards Edenburough gon was hee,30And with him all his eight score men,Good lord, it was a goodly sight for to see!
When Jonne came befower the king,He fell downe on his knee;"O pardon my soveraine leige," he said,35"O pardon my eight score men and mee!"
"Thou shalt have no pardon, thou traytor strong,For thy eight score men nor thee;For to-morrow morning by ten of the clock,Both thou and them shall hang on the gallow tree."40
But Jonne looked over his left shoulder,Good Lord, what a grevious look looked hee!Saying, "Asking grace of a graceles face—Why there is none for you nor me."
But Jonne had a bright sword by his side,45And it was made of the mettle so free,That had not the king stept his foot aside,He had smitten his head from his fair boddé.
Saying, "Fight on, my merry men all,And see that none of you be taine;50For rather then men shall say we were hanged,Let them report how we were slaine."
Then, God wott, faire Eddenburrough rose,And so besett poore Jonne [a]rounde,That fowerscore and tenn of Jonnes best men,55Lay gasping all upon the ground.
Then like a mad man Jonne laide about,And like a mad man then fought hee,Untill a falce Scot came Jonne behinde,And runn him through the faire boddee.60
Saying, "Fight on, my merry men all,And see that none of you be taine;For I will stand by and bleed but a while,And then will I come and fight againe."
Newes then was brought to young Jonne Armestrong,65As he stood by his nurses knee,Who vowed if er'e he lived for to be a man,O th' the treacherous Scots reveng'd hee'd be.
11. syke.
11. syke.
FromThe Ballads and Songs of Ayrshire, First Series, p. 74, where it is taken from aStatistical Account of the Parish of Loudoun. The writer of theStatistical Accountstates that the old castle of Loudoun is supposed to have been destroyed by fire about 350 years ago. "The current tradition," he adds, "ascribes that event to the Clan Kennedy, and the remains of an old tower at Auchruglen, on the Galston side of the valley, is still pointed out as having been their residence."
It fell about the Martinmas time,When the wind blew snell and cauld,That Adam o' Gordon said to his men,"When will we get a hold?"See [ye] not where yonder fair castle5Stands on yon lily lee?The laird and I hae a deadly feud,The lady fain would I see."As she was up on the househead,Behold, on looking down,10She saw Adam o' Gordon and his men,Coming riding to the town.The dinner was not well set down,Nor the grace was scarcely said,Till Adam o' Gordon and his men15About the walls were laid."It's fause now fa' thee, Jock my man,Thou might a let me be;Yon man has lifted the pavement stone,An' let in the loun to me."20"Seven years I served thee, fair ladie,You gave me meat and fee;But now I am Adam o' Gordon's man,An' maun either do it or die.""Come down, come down, my Lady Loudoun,25Comethou downunto me;I'll wrap thee on a feather bed,Thy warrand I shall be.""I'll no come down, I'll no come down,For neither laird nor loun,30Nor yet for any bloody butcherThat lives in Altringham town."I would give the black," she says,"And so would I the brown,If that Thomas, my only son,35Could charge to me a gun."Out then spake the Lady Margaret,As she stood on the stair,—The fire was at her goud garters,The lowe was at her hair.40"I would give the black," she says,"And so would I the brown,For a drink of yon water,That rins by Galston Town."Out then spake fair Anne,45She was baith jimp and sma',"O row me in a pair o' sheets,And tow me down the wa'.""O hold thy tongue, thou fair Anne,And let thy talkin' be,50For thou must stay in this fair castle,And bear thy death with me.""O mother," spoke the Lord Thomas,As he sat on the nurse's knee,"O mother, give up this fair castle,55Or the reek will worrie me.""I would rather be burnt to ashes sma',And be cast on yon sea foam,Before I'd give up this fair castle,And my lord so far from home.60"My good lord has an army strong,He's now gone o'er the sea;He bade me keep this gay castle,As long as it would keep me."I've four-and-twenty brave milk kye65Gangs on yon lily lee,I'd give them a' for a blast of wind,To blaw the reek from me."O pitie on yon fair castle,That's built with stone and lime,70But far mair pitie on Lady Loudoun,And all her children nine.
It fell about the Martinmas time,When the wind blew snell and cauld,That Adam o' Gordon said to his men,"When will we get a hold?
"See [ye] not where yonder fair castle5Stands on yon lily lee?The laird and I hae a deadly feud,The lady fain would I see."
As she was up on the househead,Behold, on looking down,10She saw Adam o' Gordon and his men,Coming riding to the town.
The dinner was not well set down,Nor the grace was scarcely said,Till Adam o' Gordon and his men15About the walls were laid.
"It's fause now fa' thee, Jock my man,Thou might a let me be;Yon man has lifted the pavement stone,An' let in the loun to me."20
"Seven years I served thee, fair ladie,You gave me meat and fee;But now I am Adam o' Gordon's man,An' maun either do it or die."
"Come down, come down, my Lady Loudoun,25Comethou downunto me;I'll wrap thee on a feather bed,Thy warrand I shall be."
"I'll no come down, I'll no come down,For neither laird nor loun,30Nor yet for any bloody butcherThat lives in Altringham town.
"I would give the black," she says,"And so would I the brown,If that Thomas, my only son,35Could charge to me a gun."
Out then spake the Lady Margaret,As she stood on the stair,—The fire was at her goud garters,The lowe was at her hair.40
"I would give the black," she says,"And so would I the brown,For a drink of yon water,That rins by Galston Town."
Out then spake fair Anne,45She was baith jimp and sma',"O row me in a pair o' sheets,And tow me down the wa'."
"O hold thy tongue, thou fair Anne,And let thy talkin' be,50For thou must stay in this fair castle,And bear thy death with me."
"O mother," spoke the Lord Thomas,As he sat on the nurse's knee,"O mother, give up this fair castle,55Or the reek will worrie me."
"I would rather be burnt to ashes sma',And be cast on yon sea foam,Before I'd give up this fair castle,And my lord so far from home.60
"My good lord has an army strong,He's now gone o'er the sea;He bade me keep this gay castle,As long as it would keep me.
"I've four-and-twenty brave milk kye65Gangs on yon lily lee,I'd give them a' for a blast of wind,To blaw the reek from me."
O pitie on yon fair castle,That's built with stone and lime,70But far mair pitie on Lady Loudoun,And all her children nine.
26. down thou.
26. down thou.
FromSelect Scottish Songs, Ancient and Modern, by Robert Burns, edited by Cromek, ii. 199.
Rob Roy from the Highlands cam,Unto the Lawlan' border,To steal awa a gay ladieTo haud his house in order.He cam owre the lock o' Lynn,5Twenty men his arms did carry;Himsel gaed in, an' fand her out,Protesting he would marry."O will ye gae wi' me," he says,"Or will ye be my honey?10Or will ye be my wedded wife?For I love you best of any.""I winna gae wi' you," she says,"Nor will I be your honey,Nor will I be your wedded wife;15You love me for my money."* * * * *But he set her on a coal-black steed,Himsel lap on behind her,An' he's awa to the Highland hills,Whare her frien's they canna find her.20* * * * *"Rob Roy was my father ca'd,Macgregor was his name, ladie;He led a band o' heroes bauld,An' I am here the same, ladie.Be content, be content,25Be content to stay, ladie,For thou art my wedded wifeUntil thy dying day, ladie."He was a hedge unto his frien's,A heckle to his foes, ladie,30Every one that durst him wrang,He took him by the nose, ladie.I'm as bold, I'm as bold,I'm as bold, an more, ladie;He that daurs dispute my word,35Shall feel my guid claymore, ladie."
Rob Roy from the Highlands cam,Unto the Lawlan' border,To steal awa a gay ladieTo haud his house in order.He cam owre the lock o' Lynn,5Twenty men his arms did carry;Himsel gaed in, an' fand her out,Protesting he would marry.
"O will ye gae wi' me," he says,"Or will ye be my honey?10Or will ye be my wedded wife?For I love you best of any.""I winna gae wi' you," she says,"Nor will I be your honey,Nor will I be your wedded wife;15You love me for my money."* * * * *
But he set her on a coal-black steed,Himsel lap on behind her,An' he's awa to the Highland hills,Whare her frien's they canna find her.20* * * * *
"Rob Roy was my father ca'd,Macgregor was his name, ladie;He led a band o' heroes bauld,An' I am here the same, ladie.Be content, be content,25Be content to stay, ladie,For thou art my wedded wifeUntil thy dying day, ladie.
"He was a hedge unto his frien's,A heckle to his foes, ladie,30Every one that durst him wrang,He took him by the nose, ladie.I'm as bold, I'm as bold,I'm as bold, an more, ladie;He that daurs dispute my word,35Shall feel my guid claymore, ladie."
II.
From Maidment'sNorth Countrie Garland, p. 44.
Rob Roy from the Highlands cam,Unto our Scottish border,And he has stow'n a lady fair,To haud his house in order.And when he cam, he surrounded the house,5Twenty men their arms did carry,And he has stow'n this lady fair,On purpose her to marry.And when he cam, he surrounded the house;No tidings there cam before him,10Or else the lady would have been gone,For still she did abhor him.Wi' murnfu' cries, and wat'ry eyes,Fast hauding by her mother,Wi' murnfu' cries, and wat'ry eyes,15They are parted frae each other.Nae time he gied her to be dress'd,As ladies do when they're bride O,But he hastened and hurried her awa',And he row'd her in his plaid O.20They rade till they cam to Ballyshine,At Ballyshine they tarried;He bought to her a cotton gown,Yet ne'er would she be married.Three held her up before the priest,25Four carried her to bed O,Wi' wat'ry eyes, and murnfu' sighs,When she behind was laid O.* * * * *"O be content, be content,Be content to stay, lady,30For ye are my wedded wifeUnto my dying day, lady.
Rob Roy from the Highlands cam,Unto our Scottish border,And he has stow'n a lady fair,To haud his house in order.
And when he cam, he surrounded the house,5Twenty men their arms did carry,And he has stow'n this lady fair,On purpose her to marry.
And when he cam, he surrounded the house;No tidings there cam before him,10Or else the lady would have been gone,For still she did abhor him.
Wi' murnfu' cries, and wat'ry eyes,Fast hauding by her mother,Wi' murnfu' cries, and wat'ry eyes,15They are parted frae each other.
Nae time he gied her to be dress'd,As ladies do when they're bride O,But he hastened and hurried her awa',And he row'd her in his plaid O.20
They rade till they cam to Ballyshine,At Ballyshine they tarried;He bought to her a cotton gown,Yet ne'er would she be married.
Three held her up before the priest,25Four carried her to bed O,Wi' wat'ry eyes, and murnfu' sighs,When she behind was laid O.* * * * *
"O be content, be content,Be content to stay, lady,30For ye are my wedded wifeUnto my dying day, lady.
CHORUS.