N

Campbell MSS, II, 335.

1Lord Johnnie's up to England gane,Three quarters of an year;Lord Johnnie's up to England gone,The king's banner to bear.2He had not been in fair England,Three quarters he was not,Till the king's eldest daughterGoes with child to Lord Johnnie Scott.3Word has to the kitchen gone,And word's gone to the hall,And word's gone to the high, high room,Among the nobles all.4And word has gaen to the king himsel,In his chamber where he sat,That his eldest daughter goes wi childTo good Lord Johnnie Scott.5'Gin that be true,' the king replied,'As I suppose it be,I'll put her in a prison strong,And starve her till she die.'* * * * *6'O where will I get a little page,That will win baith hose and shoon,And run into fair Scotland,And tell my love to come?'* * * * *7'What news, what news, my little page?What news hae ye brought to me?''Bad news, bad news, my master dear,The king's daughter maun die.8'Here is a shirt, O master dear,Her ain hand sewd the sleeve;She bad me run and tell ye this,And ask nae person's leave.9'They have her in a prison strong,And in a dungeon deep;Her feet are in the fetters strong,And they've left her to weep.10'Her feet are in the cold, cold iron,Instead of beaten gold;Her garters are of the cauld, cauld iron,And O but they are cold!'* * * * *11'A clerk, a clerk,' the king did cry,'To cry the toucher-fee;''A priest, a priest,' Lord Johnnie cry'd,'To join my love and me.12'I want none of your gold,' he said,'Nor as little want I a fee;But I do want your daughter dear,My wedded wife to be.'

1Lord Johnnie's up to England gane,Three quarters of an year;Lord Johnnie's up to England gone,The king's banner to bear.

2He had not been in fair England,Three quarters he was not,Till the king's eldest daughterGoes with child to Lord Johnnie Scott.

3Word has to the kitchen gone,And word's gone to the hall,And word's gone to the high, high room,Among the nobles all.

4And word has gaen to the king himsel,In his chamber where he sat,That his eldest daughter goes wi childTo good Lord Johnnie Scott.

5'Gin that be true,' the king replied,'As I suppose it be,I'll put her in a prison strong,And starve her till she die.'

* * * * *

6'O where will I get a little page,That will win baith hose and shoon,And run into fair Scotland,And tell my love to come?'

* * * * *

7'What news, what news, my little page?What news hae ye brought to me?''Bad news, bad news, my master dear,The king's daughter maun die.

8'Here is a shirt, O master dear,Her ain hand sewd the sleeve;She bad me run and tell ye this,And ask nae person's leave.

9'They have her in a prison strong,And in a dungeon deep;Her feet are in the fetters strong,And they've left her to weep.

10'Her feet are in the cold, cold iron,Instead of beaten gold;Her garters are of the cauld, cauld iron,And O but they are cold!'

* * * * *

11'A clerk, a clerk,' the king did cry,'To cry the toucher-fee;''A priest, a priest,' Lord Johnnie cry'd,'To join my love and me.

12'I want none of your gold,' he said,'Nor as little want I a fee;But I do want your daughter dear,My wedded wife to be.'

Buchan's Gleanings, p. 122.

1Lord John he's on to England gone,To England gone is he;Love John he's on to England gone,The king's banneret to be.2He hadna been in fair EnglandO but a little while,Till faen in love wi the king's daughter,And to him she's with chile.3Now word is to the kitchen gane,And word is to the ha,And word is to the king's high court,And that was warst of a'.4Out then spake the king himsell,An angry man was he:I'll put her into prison strong,And starve her till she die.5Love John he's on to Scotland gone,I wat he's on wi speed;Love John he's on to Scotland gone,And as good was his need.6He hadna been in fair ScotlandBut a very short tide,Till he minded on the damselThat lay last by his side.7'Whare will I get a bonny boy,Will win baith meat and fee,That will run on to fair England,And haste him back to me?'8'O here am I, a bonny boy,Will win baith meat and fee,That will run on to fair England,And haste him back to thee.'9'Where ye find the grass grow green,Ye'll slack your shoes and rin;And when ye find the brigs broken,Ye'll bend your bow and swim.10'And when ye come to the king's high court,Ye'll rin it round about,And there ye'll see a lady gay,At a window looking out.11'Bid her take this shirt of silk,Her ain hand sewed the sleeve;Bid her come to good green-wood,At her parents spier nae leave.12'Bid her take this shirt of silk,Her ain hand sewed the gair;Bid her come to good green-wood,Love John he waits her there.'13Where he found the grass grow green,He slackd his shoes and ran;Where he fan the brigs broken,He bent his bow and swam.14When he came to the king's high court,He ran it round about;And there he saw the lady gay,At the window looking out.15'Ye're bidden take this shirt of silk,Yere ain hand sewed the sleeve;Ye're bidden come to good green-wood,At your parents spier nae leave.16'Ye're bidden take this shirt of silk,Yere ain hand sewed the gair;Ye're bidden come to good green-wood,Love John he waits you there.'17'My feet are in the fetters strong,Instead of silken sheen;My breast-plate's of the cold iron,Instead of gold so fine.18'But I will write a broad letter,And seal it with my hand,And send it off to my Love Johnny,And let him understand.'19The first line that he looked on,A loud laughter laught he;But ere he read it to the end,The tear blinded his ee.20'O I will on to fair England,Whatever me betide,For to relieve the damselThat lay last by my side.'21Out it spake his father dear,A noble lord was he:If ye gang to England, Johnny,Ye'll neer come back to me.22Out it spake a noble lord,A noble lord, I wat, was he:Fifteen of our Scottish lordsWill bear his honour companie.23The first town that they eer came till,They gart the bells be rung;The next town that they came till,They gart the mass be sung.24And when they came to the king's court,They gart the trumpet soun,Till the king and all his merry young menDid marvel at the tune.25'Is this the Duke of Marlborough,Or James, the Scottish king?Or is it else some Scottish lord,Come here a visiting?'26'It's not the Duke of Marlborough,Nor James, the Scottish king:It is Love John of fair Scotland,Come here a visiting.'27'If this be John of fair Scotland,He's dearly welcome to me;The morn ere he eat or drink,High hanged he shall be.'28He's taen his broadsword in his hand,And stripd it oer a stane;Then thro and thro the king's high courtWith broadsword now is gane.29They fought it up, they fought it down,Till they were weary men,When the blood, like drops of rain,Came trickling down the plain.30Out it spake the king himsel,Ane angry man was he:I have ane Italian within my courtWill fight ye three and three.31Out it came that ae Italian,As pale as death was he,And on the point of Johnny's swordThat ae Italian did die.32'A clerk, a clerk,' the king he cried,'And seal her tocher wi;''A priest, a priest,' Lord John he cried,'That we may married be.33'For I want neither gold,' he said,'Nor do I want your gear;But I do want my ain true-love,For I have bought her dear.'

1Lord John he's on to England gone,To England gone is he;Love John he's on to England gone,The king's banneret to be.

2He hadna been in fair EnglandO but a little while,Till faen in love wi the king's daughter,And to him she's with chile.

3Now word is to the kitchen gane,And word is to the ha,And word is to the king's high court,And that was warst of a'.

4Out then spake the king himsell,An angry man was he:I'll put her into prison strong,And starve her till she die.

5Love John he's on to Scotland gone,I wat he's on wi speed;Love John he's on to Scotland gone,And as good was his need.

6He hadna been in fair ScotlandBut a very short tide,Till he minded on the damselThat lay last by his side.

7'Whare will I get a bonny boy,Will win baith meat and fee,That will run on to fair England,And haste him back to me?'

8'O here am I, a bonny boy,Will win baith meat and fee,That will run on to fair England,And haste him back to thee.'

9'Where ye find the grass grow green,Ye'll slack your shoes and rin;And when ye find the brigs broken,Ye'll bend your bow and swim.

10'And when ye come to the king's high court,Ye'll rin it round about,And there ye'll see a lady gay,At a window looking out.

11'Bid her take this shirt of silk,Her ain hand sewed the sleeve;Bid her come to good green-wood,At her parents spier nae leave.

12'Bid her take this shirt of silk,Her ain hand sewed the gair;Bid her come to good green-wood,Love John he waits her there.'

13Where he found the grass grow green,He slackd his shoes and ran;Where he fan the brigs broken,He bent his bow and swam.

14When he came to the king's high court,He ran it round about;And there he saw the lady gay,At the window looking out.

15'Ye're bidden take this shirt of silk,Yere ain hand sewed the sleeve;Ye're bidden come to good green-wood,At your parents spier nae leave.

16'Ye're bidden take this shirt of silk,Yere ain hand sewed the gair;Ye're bidden come to good green-wood,Love John he waits you there.'

17'My feet are in the fetters strong,Instead of silken sheen;My breast-plate's of the cold iron,Instead of gold so fine.

18'But I will write a broad letter,And seal it with my hand,And send it off to my Love Johnny,And let him understand.'

19The first line that he looked on,A loud laughter laught he;But ere he read it to the end,The tear blinded his ee.

20'O I will on to fair England,Whatever me betide,For to relieve the damselThat lay last by my side.'

21Out it spake his father dear,A noble lord was he:If ye gang to England, Johnny,Ye'll neer come back to me.

22Out it spake a noble lord,A noble lord, I wat, was he:Fifteen of our Scottish lordsWill bear his honour companie.

23The first town that they eer came till,They gart the bells be rung;The next town that they came till,They gart the mass be sung.

24And when they came to the king's court,They gart the trumpet soun,Till the king and all his merry young menDid marvel at the tune.

25'Is this the Duke of Marlborough,Or James, the Scottish king?Or is it else some Scottish lord,Come here a visiting?'

26'It's not the Duke of Marlborough,Nor James, the Scottish king:It is Love John of fair Scotland,Come here a visiting.'

27'If this be John of fair Scotland,He's dearly welcome to me;The morn ere he eat or drink,High hanged he shall be.'

28He's taen his broadsword in his hand,And stripd it oer a stane;Then thro and thro the king's high courtWith broadsword now is gane.

29They fought it up, they fought it down,Till they were weary men,When the blood, like drops of rain,Came trickling down the plain.

30Out it spake the king himsel,Ane angry man was he:I have ane Italian within my courtWill fight ye three and three.

31Out it came that ae Italian,As pale as death was he,And on the point of Johnny's swordThat ae Italian did die.

32'A clerk, a clerk,' the king he cried,'And seal her tocher wi;''A priest, a priest,' Lord John he cried,'That we may married be.

33'For I want neither gold,' he said,'Nor do I want your gear;But I do want my ain true-love,For I have bought her dear.'

Communicated by Mr William Macmath, of Edinburgh, from his aunt, Miss Jane Webster, formerly of Airds of Kells, now (December, 1882) of Dalry, Kirkcudbrightshire, who learned it from the late Miss Jane Hannay, Newton Stewart.

* * * * *1Out then spak his auld faither,And a blythe auld man was he,Saying, I'll send five hunner o my brisk young men,To bear Johnie companie.2And when they were on saddle set,They were a pleasant sight for to see,For there was na ae married manIn a' Johnie's companie.3And when they were on saddle set,They were a pleasant sight to behold,For the hair that hung down Johnie's backWas like the links of gold.4And when they came to Newcastle,They reined their horses about;Wha did he see but his ain Jeanie,At a window looking out!5'Come doun, come doun, Jeanie,' he says,'Come doun, come doun to me;''I canna come doun, Johnie,' she says,'For King Edward has bolted me.6'My stockings are o the heavy iron,I feel them very cold;And my breast-plate's o the sturdy steel,Instead of beaten gold.'* * * * *7. . . . . . .. . . . . . .'I'll make it heir o a' my lands,And her my gay lady.'8'There is an Italian in this court;This day he has slain knights three;And before tomorrow at eight o'clockThe Italian will slay thee.'

* * * * *

1Out then spak his auld faither,And a blythe auld man was he,Saying, I'll send five hunner o my brisk young men,To bear Johnie companie.

2And when they were on saddle set,They were a pleasant sight for to see,For there was na ae married manIn a' Johnie's companie.

3And when they were on saddle set,They were a pleasant sight to behold,For the hair that hung down Johnie's backWas like the links of gold.

4And when they came to Newcastle,They reined their horses about;Wha did he see but his ain Jeanie,At a window looking out!

5'Come doun, come doun, Jeanie,' he says,'Come doun, come doun to me;''I canna come doun, Johnie,' she says,'For King Edward has bolted me.

6'My stockings are o the heavy iron,I feel them very cold;And my breast-plate's o the sturdy steel,Instead of beaten gold.'

* * * * *

7. . . . . . .. . . . . . .'I'll make it heir o a' my lands,And her my gay lady.'

8'There is an Italian in this court;This day he has slain knights three;And before tomorrow at eight o'clockThe Italian will slay thee.'

Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 11.

1Johnie's up to England gone,Three quarters of a year;Johnie's up to England gone,The king's banner to bear.2He hadna been in fair EnglandA month but only three,The king he had but one dochter,And she fell in love with he.3And word is up, and word is down,And word is to the ha,And word is to the king's court gane,Amang the nobles a'.4Now word is to the king himsell,On throne where he did sit,That his ae dochter goes wi childTo John that little Scot.

1Johnie's up to England gone,Three quarters of a year;Johnie's up to England gone,The king's banner to bear.

2He hadna been in fair EnglandA month but only three,The king he had but one dochter,And she fell in love with he.

3And word is up, and word is down,And word is to the ha,And word is to the king's court gane,Amang the nobles a'.

4Now word is to the king himsell,On throne where he did sit,That his ae dochter goes wi childTo John that little Scot.

Written in stanzas of two long lines in the Jamieson MS.42, 272. MS. will?83. I wist.153. plates.The first stanza is given thus by Anderson in Nichols's Illustrations:

Written in stanzas of two long lines in the Jamieson MS.

42, 272. MS. will?

83. I wist.

153. plates.

The first stanza is given thus by Anderson in Nichols's Illustrations:

Johnie was as brave a knightAs ever sailed the sea,And he is to the English court,To serve for meat and fee.

The Abbotsford copy omits stanzas 4, 9, 34. Most of the many changes are, beyond doubt, arbitrary, but the following are more or less countenanced by other versions.

13, 4.And he is up to fair England,The king's braid banner to bear.

Cf.B,E,I,K,M,N,P.194. That should have been my bride.Cf.B10.

Cf.B,E,I,K,M,N,P.

194. That should have been my bride.Cf.B10.

30.Out then cam that Italian knight,A grisly sight to see;Between his een there was a span,Between his shoulders three and three.And forth then came brave John the Scot,He scarcely reachd his knee;Yet on the point of Johny's brandThe Italian knight did die.

30.Out then cam that Italian knight,A grisly sight to see;Between his een there was a span,Between his shoulders three and three.

And forth then came brave John the Scot,He scarcely reachd his knee;Yet on the point of Johny's brandThe Italian knight did die.

Cf.L18.

Written in stanzas of two lines.163. And there.

Written in stanzas of two lines.

163. And there.

32. forgid.143. plates.164. be thy.233. Johnie slain.244. Johnie's dread.264. freechanged in MS. tofee.Cf.A332,D274,E224,H292; fee,I232,K152,M112.

32. forgid.

143. plates.

164. be thy.

233. Johnie slain.

244. Johnie's dread.

264. freechanged in MS. tofee.Cf.A332,D274,E224,H292; fee,I232,K152,M112.

D. a.

The last two lines of each stanza are repeated in singing.84.Originallyto thee.252. deadchanged todeid.

The last two lines of each stanza are repeated in singing.

84.Originallyto thee.

252. deadchanged todeid.

Title, Lord Johnnie Scot.The variations are generally written above the readings ofa, or otherwise distinctly indicated.11. It's Johnnie.13. And who.33. It's thou.34. gay ladie.41. rode till her father's gate.51. It's he.61. to the green woods.62. To Johnnie Scot thy luve.64. the sleeve.71. to the green woods.103. ladie gay.111. out then... father dear.112. spoke out.113. If thou unto.114. doubt thy.121. Out then spoke our.122. And he spoke manfullie.13, 14.These stanzas are often transposed.134. the yellow gold.142. Most pleasant for to.181. I'm not.182. James your.183. But I'm.201. he said.211. he said.221. Out then spoke our.234. the day.241. all did flock.242. In coaches all amain.243. all did flock.254. oer his head.263. on the point.The reciterhad heard another ballad which detailed the same events, and but little differing in any respect, which went under the name of 'McNaughton's Valour,' or, 'Naughton's Valour.'

Title, Lord Johnnie Scot.

The variations are generally written above the readings ofa, or otherwise distinctly indicated.

11. It's Johnnie.

13. And who.

33. It's thou.

34. gay ladie.

41. rode till her father's gate.

51. It's he.

61. to the green woods.

62. To Johnnie Scot thy luve.

64. the sleeve.

71. to the green woods.

103. ladie gay.

111. out then... father dear.

112. spoke out.

113. If thou unto.

114. doubt thy.

121. Out then spoke our.

122. And he spoke manfullie.

13, 14.These stanzas are often transposed.

134. the yellow gold.

142. Most pleasant for to.

181. I'm not.

182. James your.

183. But I'm.

201. he said.

211. he said.

221. Out then spoke our.

234. the day.

241. all did flock.

242. In coaches all amain.

243. all did flock.

254. oer his head.

263. on the point.

The reciterhad heard another ballad which detailed the same events, and but little differing in any respect, which went under the name of 'McNaughton's Valour,' or, 'Naughton's Valour.'

134.Originallynow come,altered tonew come.172.Var.And a well spoke boy was he.183.Var.champion.193.Originally writtenLikewise the queen and her maidens fair.204. trinkling down?Motherwell.254.Var.McNaughton and his men! "McNaughtoun's cure to ye!" is Devil relieve ye!Motherwell.

134.Originallynow come,altered tonew come.

172.Var.And a well spoke boy was he.

183.Var.champion.

193.Originally writtenLikewise the queen and her maidens fair.

204. trinkling down?Motherwell.

254.Var.McNaughton and his men! "McNaughtoun's cure to ye!" is Devil relieve ye!Motherwell.

31, 41. Oh.

82. the rade.83. Theyre.The second copy has these few differences, attributable to Motherwell:12. England's.21, 31. said.74. bear him.231. set unto.232. schill.233. Scotland gone.

82. the rade.

83. Theyre.

The second copy has these few differences, attributable to Motherwell:

12. England's.

21, 31. said.

74. bear him.

231. set unto.

232. schill.

233. Scotland gone.

84. Johny I'll192. They drums.201. muberry.263. Johny.273. But but.26, 27should, perhaps, be transposed; but compareN29-31.

84. Johny I'll

192. They drums.

201. muberry.

263. Johny.

273. But but.

26, 27should, perhaps, be transposed; but compareN29-31.

22.Kinloch correctsdaytowhile.After 3.A verse a-wanting. It is about the king putting his daughter in prison.

22.Kinloch correctsdaytowhile.

After 3.A verse a-wanting. It is about the king putting his daughter in prison.

142. shook:cf.A322.

34. dies (?).173. say.

34. dies (?).

173. say.

24.Var.goes with child to:perhaps a change of Motherwell's.

FOOTNOTES:[164]Pointed out to Motherwell by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.[165]"Les Aubrays est le nom d'une seigneurie du pays de Retz, apportée en mariage, en 1455, à Rolland de Lannion, par Guyonne de Grezy, dame des Aubrays. La ballade ne peut pas, par conséquent, être antérieure à cette époque, et nous la croyons bien plus moderne." M. Pol de Courcy, Luzel, I, 306. The ballad can be no older, unless the Seigneur Les Aubrays has displaced an earlier hero; but what means have we of deciding that question?

[164]Pointed out to Motherwell by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.

[165]"Les Aubrays est le nom d'une seigneurie du pays de Retz, apportée en mariage, en 1455, à Rolland de Lannion, par Guyonne de Grezy, dame des Aubrays. La ballade ne peut pas, par conséquent, être antérieure à cette époque, et nous la croyons bien plus moderne." M. Pol de Courcy, Luzel, I, 306. The ballad can be no older, unless the Seigneur Les Aubrays has displaced an earlier hero; but what means have we of deciding that question?

A.'Willie o Winsbury,' Campbell MSS, II, 38.B.Herd's MSS, I, 29; II, 98.C.'Lord Thomas of Winsbury,' Kinloch MSS, I, 315.D.Percy Papers, communicated by the Rev. P. Parsons, about 1775.E.'Johnnie Barbour,' Notes and Queries, Fifth Series, VII, 387.F.'Willie of Winsberye,' Motherwell's MS., p. 404.G.'Lord Thomas o Winsbury,' Buchan's MSS, II, 174; 'Lord Thomas of Winesberry and the King's Daughter,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 212.H.'Lord Thomas of Winesberrie,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 92.I.'Lord Thomas of Winsberry,'a,b, stall copies;c, Buchan's Gleanings, p. 127.

A.'Willie o Winsbury,' Campbell MSS, II, 38.

B.Herd's MSS, I, 29; II, 98.

C.'Lord Thomas of Winsbury,' Kinloch MSS, I, 315.

D.Percy Papers, communicated by the Rev. P. Parsons, about 1775.

E.'Johnnie Barbour,' Notes and Queries, Fifth Series, VII, 387.

F.'Willie of Winsberye,' Motherwell's MS., p. 404.

G.'Lord Thomas o Winsbury,' Buchan's MSS, II, 174; 'Lord Thomas of Winesberry and the King's Daughter,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 212.

H.'Lord Thomas of Winesberrie,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 92.

I.'Lord Thomas of Winsberry,'a,b, stall copies;c, Buchan's Gleanings, p. 127.

The main points of the story of this ballad are the same in all the copies. The king of Scotland,C,F, of France,H,I, has been away from home a considerable time, in Spain,A,C,F,G, a prisoner,A,F, a-hunting,C,H,I, and during his absence his daughter has become with child by William or Thomas of Winsbury. The father threatens to hang the young man, but on seeing him is so struck with his beauty that he exonerates his daughter, and offers her in marriage to her lover, with a large dowry. Winsbury accepts the lady, but declines gold and land, having enough of his own. InHhe says he shall be king when he goes back to Scotland; in the other copies he appears to be only a man of very good estate.

From the hero turning out to be a royal person from Scotland, inH, Kinloch, Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 89, is led to imagine that the ballad may relate to James V of Scotland, who married a daughter of Francis I. His reasons are, first, that Jamesdisguised himselfwhen he went to inspect the Duke of Vendôme's daughter (to whom he was in a way betrothed), so as not to be known to her or to her parents. Secondly, that when James, not fancying this lady, passed on, it was at ahunting-party that he met the French princess, who became so enamored of him that she would have no other husband. That the poor princess had long been sick, and "was not able to travel out of the realm to no other countrie" (on a milk-white steed,C13), and that she died about six months after her marriage, does not come into the ballad.[166]Buchan thinks Winsbury's rank to be fixed by his version,G, as that of a chamberlain, and therefore cannot admit the plausibility of a disguised James V.

The two English copies,D,E, both imperfect, change the hero's name to Johnnie Barbary ('lately come from Spain,' cf.B5) or Johnnie Barbour. Motherwell, in a manuscript annotation to Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, mentions that he had obtained from recitation a copy in which the name was Sweet Willie of Salisbury. The change from a king to a lady neat and trim inD1 is a corruption that one would have hardly looked for "from the spinning-wheel."

The stanza which notes the reluctance of the young man to come at call,C9,D6,F12, occurs in all copies of 'The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter.'

Campbell MSS, II, 38.

1The king he hath been a prisoner,A prisoner lang in Spain, OAnd Willie o the WinsburyHas lain lang wi his daughter at hame. O2'What aileth thee, my daughter Janet,Ye look so pale and wan?Have ye had any sore sickness,Or have ye been lying wi a man?Or is it for me, your father dear,And biding sae lang in Spain?'3'I have not had any sore sickness,Nor yet been lying wi a man;But it is for you, my father dear,In biding sae lang in Spain.'4'Cast ye off your berry-brown gown,Stand straight upon the stone,That I may ken ye by yere shape,Whether ye be a maiden or none.'5She's coosten off her berry-brown gown,Stooden straight upo yon stone;Her apron was short, and her haunches were round,Her face it was pale and wan.6'Is it to a man o might, Janet?Or is it to a man of fame?Or is it to any of the rank robbersThat's lately come out o Spain?'7'It is not to a man of might,' she said,'Nor is it to a man of fame;But it is to William of Winsburry;I could lye nae langer my lane.'8The king's called on his merry men all,By thirty and by three:'Go fetch me William of Winsburry,For hanged he shall be.'9But when he cam the king before,He was clad o the red silk;His hair was like to threeds o gold,And his skin was as white as milk.10'It is nae wonder,' said the king,'That my daughter's love ye did win;Had I been a woman, as I am a man,My bedfellow ye should hae been.11'Will ye marry my daughter Janet,By the truth of thy right hand?I'll gie ye gold, I'll gie ye money,And I'll gie ye an earldom o land.'12'Yes, I'll marry yere daughter Janet,By the truth of my right hand;But I'll hae nane o yer gold, I'll hae nane o yer money,Nor I winna hae an earldom o land.13'For I hae eighteen corn-mills,Runs all in water clear,And there's as much corn in each o themAs they can grind in a year.'

1The king he hath been a prisoner,A prisoner lang in Spain, OAnd Willie o the WinsburyHas lain lang wi his daughter at hame. O

2'What aileth thee, my daughter Janet,Ye look so pale and wan?Have ye had any sore sickness,Or have ye been lying wi a man?Or is it for me, your father dear,And biding sae lang in Spain?'

3'I have not had any sore sickness,Nor yet been lying wi a man;But it is for you, my father dear,In biding sae lang in Spain.'

4'Cast ye off your berry-brown gown,Stand straight upon the stone,That I may ken ye by yere shape,Whether ye be a maiden or none.'

5She's coosten off her berry-brown gown,Stooden straight upo yon stone;Her apron was short, and her haunches were round,Her face it was pale and wan.

6'Is it to a man o might, Janet?Or is it to a man of fame?Or is it to any of the rank robbersThat's lately come out o Spain?'

7'It is not to a man of might,' she said,'Nor is it to a man of fame;But it is to William of Winsburry;I could lye nae langer my lane.'

8The king's called on his merry men all,By thirty and by three:'Go fetch me William of Winsburry,For hanged he shall be.'

9But when he cam the king before,He was clad o the red silk;His hair was like to threeds o gold,And his skin was as white as milk.

10'It is nae wonder,' said the king,'That my daughter's love ye did win;Had I been a woman, as I am a man,My bedfellow ye should hae been.

11'Will ye marry my daughter Janet,By the truth of thy right hand?I'll gie ye gold, I'll gie ye money,And I'll gie ye an earldom o land.'

12'Yes, I'll marry yere daughter Janet,By the truth of my right hand;But I'll hae nane o yer gold, I'll hae nane o yer money,Nor I winna hae an earldom o land.

13'For I hae eighteen corn-mills,Runs all in water clear,And there's as much corn in each o themAs they can grind in a year.'

Herd's MSS, I, 29; II, 98.

* * * * *1'What aileth ye, my dochter Dysmill,Ye look sae pale and wan?Hae ye had ony sair sickness,Or ill luve wi a man?2'Cast aff, cast aff your bony brown goun,And lay't down on the stane,And I sall tell ye ay or noYe hae layn wi a man.'3She has taen aff her bony brown gown,She has laid it on the stane;Her waist was big, her side was round,Her fair colour was gane.4'Now is it to a man of micht,Or to a man of mean?Or is it to the ranke robberThat robs upon the main?'5'O it's nor to a man of micht,Nor to a man of mean;But it's to Willie Winchberrie,That came frae France and Spain.'6The king he's turnd him round about,An angry man was he:'Gar bring to me your fals leman,Wha sall high hanged be.'7Then Dysmill turnd her round about,The tear blinded her ee:'Gin ye begin to hang, father,Ye maun begin wi mee.'8When Willie he cam to the king,His coat was o the silk;His hair was like the thread o gowd,His skin white as the milk.9'Ne wonder, ne wonder,' quoth the king,'My dochter shoud like ye;Gin ye were a woman, as ye're a man,My bedfellow ye sould be.10'Now will ye marry my dochter Dysmill,By the truth o your right hand?Now will ye marry my dochter Dysmill,And be a lord o the land?'

* * * * *

1'What aileth ye, my dochter Dysmill,Ye look sae pale and wan?Hae ye had ony sair sickness,Or ill luve wi a man?

2'Cast aff, cast aff your bony brown goun,And lay't down on the stane,And I sall tell ye ay or noYe hae layn wi a man.'

3She has taen aff her bony brown gown,She has laid it on the stane;Her waist was big, her side was round,Her fair colour was gane.

4'Now is it to a man of micht,Or to a man of mean?Or is it to the ranke robberThat robs upon the main?'

5'O it's nor to a man of micht,Nor to a man of mean;But it's to Willie Winchberrie,That came frae France and Spain.'

6The king he's turnd him round about,An angry man was he:'Gar bring to me your fals leman,Wha sall high hanged be.'

7Then Dysmill turnd her round about,The tear blinded her ee:'Gin ye begin to hang, father,Ye maun begin wi mee.'

8When Willie he cam to the king,His coat was o the silk;His hair was like the thread o gowd,His skin white as the milk.

9'Ne wonder, ne wonder,' quoth the king,'My dochter shoud like ye;Gin ye were a woman, as ye're a man,My bedfellow ye sould be.

10'Now will ye marry my dochter Dysmill,By the truth o your right hand?Now will ye marry my dochter Dysmill,And be a lord o the land?'

Kinloch MSS, I, 315.

1The king has been long seven years away,Long seven years away frae hame;Our king has been long seven years away,A hunting oer in Spain.* * * * *2'What aileth thee, my ae daughter,Thou lookst so pale and wan?Hast thou had any sore sickness,Or hast thou loved man?'3'I have not had any sore sickness,To make me look sae wan;But it is for your own majestie,You staid sae lang in Spain.'4'Cast aff, cast aff thy silken gown,And lay it on yon stane,And I'll tell to thee if with child you be,Or if ye be with nane.'5She's casten aff her costly gown,That's made o the silk sae fine;Her stays were sae strait she could na loot,And her fair colour was wan.6'Oh is it to any mighty man?Or any lord of fame?Or is it to the rank robbersThat I sent out o Spain?'7'It is no to the rank robbersThat you sent out o Spain;But it is to Thomas of Winsbury,For I dought na lie my lane.'8'If it be to Lord Thomas,' he says,'It's hanged shall he be:''If you hang Thomas of Winsbury,You'll get na mair gude o me.'9The king's called up his merry men all,By one, by two, and three;Lord Thomas should hae been the foremost man,But the hindmost man was he.10'No wonder, no wonder,' the king he said,'My daughter loved thee;For wert thou a woman, as thou art a man,My bedfellow thou shouldst be.11'O will you marry my daughter dear,By the faith of thy right hand?And thou shalt reign, when I am dead,The king over my whole land.'12'I will marry your daughter dear,With my heart, yea and my hand;But it never shall be that Lord WinsburyShall rule oer fair Scotland.'13He's mounted her on a milk-white steed,Himself on a dapple-grey,And made her a lady of as much landShe could ride in a whole summer day.

1The king has been long seven years away,Long seven years away frae hame;Our king has been long seven years away,A hunting oer in Spain.

* * * * *

2'What aileth thee, my ae daughter,Thou lookst so pale and wan?Hast thou had any sore sickness,Or hast thou loved man?'

3'I have not had any sore sickness,To make me look sae wan;But it is for your own majestie,You staid sae lang in Spain.'

4'Cast aff, cast aff thy silken gown,And lay it on yon stane,And I'll tell to thee if with child you be,Or if ye be with nane.'

5She's casten aff her costly gown,That's made o the silk sae fine;Her stays were sae strait she could na loot,And her fair colour was wan.

6'Oh is it to any mighty man?Or any lord of fame?Or is it to the rank robbersThat I sent out o Spain?'

7'It is no to the rank robbersThat you sent out o Spain;But it is to Thomas of Winsbury,For I dought na lie my lane.'

8'If it be to Lord Thomas,' he says,'It's hanged shall he be:''If you hang Thomas of Winsbury,You'll get na mair gude o me.'

9The king's called up his merry men all,By one, by two, and three;Lord Thomas should hae been the foremost man,But the hindmost man was he.

10'No wonder, no wonder,' the king he said,'My daughter loved thee;For wert thou a woman, as thou art a man,My bedfellow thou shouldst be.

11'O will you marry my daughter dear,By the faith of thy right hand?And thou shalt reign, when I am dead,The king over my whole land.'

12'I will marry your daughter dear,With my heart, yea and my hand;But it never shall be that Lord WinsburyShall rule oer fair Scotland.'

13He's mounted her on a milk-white steed,Himself on a dapple-grey,And made her a lady of as much landShe could ride in a whole summer day.

Communicated to Percy by the Rev. P. Parsons, of Wey, apparently in 1775. "This I had from the spinning-wheel."

1There was a lady fine and gay,She was so neat and trim;She went unto her own garden-wall,To see her own ships come in.2And there she spied her daughter Jane,Who lookd so pale and wan:'What, have you had some long sickness,Or lain with some young man?'3'No, I have had no long sickness,Nor lain with no young man:'Her petticoats they were so short,She was full nine months gone.4'Oh is it by some nobleman?Or by some man of fame?Or is it by Johnny Barbary,That's lately come from Spain?'5'No, it is by no nobleman,Nor by no man of fame;But it is by Johnny Barbary,That's lately come from Spain.'6Then she calld down her merry men,By one, by two, by three;Johnny Barbary used to be the first,But now the last came he.7'Oh will you take my daughter Jane,And wed her out of hand?And you shall dine and sup with me,And be heir of my land.'8'Yes, I will take your daughter Jane,And wed her out of hand;And I will dine and sup with you,But I do not want your land.'9Then she calld down her merry men,With a shrill and a pleasant voice:'Come, let us all now mery be,Since she has made such a happy choice.'

1There was a lady fine and gay,She was so neat and trim;She went unto her own garden-wall,To see her own ships come in.

2And there she spied her daughter Jane,Who lookd so pale and wan:'What, have you had some long sickness,Or lain with some young man?'

3'No, I have had no long sickness,Nor lain with no young man:'Her petticoats they were so short,She was full nine months gone.

4'Oh is it by some nobleman?Or by some man of fame?Or is it by Johnny Barbary,That's lately come from Spain?'

5'No, it is by no nobleman,Nor by no man of fame;But it is by Johnny Barbary,That's lately come from Spain.'

6Then she calld down her merry men,By one, by two, by three;Johnny Barbary used to be the first,But now the last came he.

7'Oh will you take my daughter Jane,And wed her out of hand?And you shall dine and sup with me,And be heir of my land.'

8'Yes, I will take your daughter Jane,And wed her out of hand;And I will dine and sup with you,But I do not want your land.'

9Then she calld down her merry men,With a shrill and a pleasant voice:'Come, let us all now mery be,Since she has made such a happy choice.'

Notes and Queries, Fifth Series, VII, 387, 1877: communicated by B. Montgomerie Ranking, as "heard sung years ago by a West Country fisherman."

* * * * *1'Oh daughter, oh daughter,' her father he said,'What makes you look so pale?. . . . . . .Or are you in love with any man?'2. . . . . . .. . . . . . .'But if it be one of my own sailor lads,High hanged he shall be.'3Johnnie Barbour he cam doun the stair,His shirt was of the silk;His two bonnie black een were rolling in his head,And his skin was as white as milk.4'Oh are you ready to marry my daughter,And take her by the hand,And to eat and drink with me at the table,And be heir of all my land?'5'Oh it's I am ready to marry your daughter,And take her by the hand,And to eat and drink with her at the table,And to fight for all your land.'

* * * * *

1'Oh daughter, oh daughter,' her father he said,'What makes you look so pale?. . . . . . .Or are you in love with any man?'

2. . . . . . .. . . . . . .'But if it be one of my own sailor lads,High hanged he shall be.'

3Johnnie Barbour he cam doun the stair,His shirt was of the silk;His two bonnie black een were rolling in his head,And his skin was as white as milk.

4'Oh are you ready to marry my daughter,And take her by the hand,And to eat and drink with me at the table,And be heir of all my land?'

5'Oh it's I am ready to marry your daughter,And take her by the hand,And to eat and drink with her at the table,And to fight for all your land.'

Motherwell's MS., p. 404; from the recitation of Agnes Laird, of Kilbarchan, August 24, 1825.

1Our king hath been a poor prisoner,And a poor prisoner in Spain; OWhen seven long years was past and gone,Our Scotish king came hame. O2As he was riding along the way,He met with his dear dochter:'What ails thee, what ails thee, my dochter dear,Thou looks so pale and wan?3'Have ye had any sore sickness,Or have ye lovd a man?Or is it for me, my dochter dear,I have been so long in Spain?'4'I have had no sore sickness,Nor yet have I loved a man;But it is for you, my father dear,Thou've been so long in Spain.'5'Cast aff, cast aff thy brown silk gown,And spread it on yonder stone,And I will tell you by and byWhether thou art a maid or none.'6She's coosten off her brown silk gown,And spread it on yonder stone,And her belly was big, and her face pale and wan,And she was about half gone.7'Is it to a man o micht?Or to a man of fame?Or is it to one of the rank rebelsThat I sent out of Spain?'8'It is not to a man of micht,Nor to a man of fame,Nor yet to one of the rank rebelsThat ye sent out o Spain;But it is to Willie o Winsberry,Thy very own serving-man.'9'If it be to Willie o Winsberry,As I trew well it be,Gin the morn at ten o the clockIt's hanged shall he be.'10As the king was riding up the gateHe met Willie clothed in scarlet red,And his hair was as yellow as the beam, beam gold,And his breast as white as milk.11'No wonder, no wonder,' quo the king,'My dochter luvit thee;For if thou was a woman, as thou'rt a man,My bedfellow thou should be.'12The king called down his merry men all,By one, by two, and by three;Sweet Willie should ha been the foremost man,But the hindmost man drew he.13'Will you take my dochter Jean,By the faith of her richt hand?And you shall sup and dine with me,And heir the third part of my land.'14'I will take your dochter Jean,By the faith of her richt hand,And I will sup and dine with you,But a fig for all your land;For I've as much land in WinsberryAs we'll ride in a long summer's day.'

1Our king hath been a poor prisoner,And a poor prisoner in Spain; OWhen seven long years was past and gone,Our Scotish king came hame. O

2As he was riding along the way,He met with his dear dochter:'What ails thee, what ails thee, my dochter dear,Thou looks so pale and wan?

3'Have ye had any sore sickness,Or have ye lovd a man?Or is it for me, my dochter dear,I have been so long in Spain?'

4'I have had no sore sickness,Nor yet have I loved a man;But it is for you, my father dear,Thou've been so long in Spain.'

5'Cast aff, cast aff thy brown silk gown,And spread it on yonder stone,And I will tell you by and byWhether thou art a maid or none.'

6She's coosten off her brown silk gown,And spread it on yonder stone,And her belly was big, and her face pale and wan,And she was about half gone.

7'Is it to a man o micht?Or to a man of fame?Or is it to one of the rank rebelsThat I sent out of Spain?'

8'It is not to a man of micht,Nor to a man of fame,Nor yet to one of the rank rebelsThat ye sent out o Spain;But it is to Willie o Winsberry,Thy very own serving-man.'

9'If it be to Willie o Winsberry,As I trew well it be,Gin the morn at ten o the clockIt's hanged shall he be.'

10As the king was riding up the gateHe met Willie clothed in scarlet red,And his hair was as yellow as the beam, beam gold,And his breast as white as milk.

11'No wonder, no wonder,' quo the king,'My dochter luvit thee;For if thou was a woman, as thou'rt a man,My bedfellow thou should be.'

12The king called down his merry men all,By one, by two, and by three;Sweet Willie should ha been the foremost man,But the hindmost man drew he.

13'Will you take my dochter Jean,By the faith of her richt hand?And you shall sup and dine with me,And heir the third part of my land.'

14'I will take your dochter Jean,By the faith of her richt hand,And I will sup and dine with you,But a fig for all your land;For I've as much land in WinsberryAs we'll ride in a long summer's day.'

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