Chapter 103

1Lamkin was as good a masonAs ever liftit stane;He built to the laird o Lariston,But payment gat he nane.2Oft he came, an ay he came,To that good lord’s yett,But neither at dor nor windowOny entrance could get.3Till ae wae an weary dayEarly he came,An it fell out on that dayThat good lord was frae hame.4He bade steek dor an window,An prick them to the gin,Nor leave a little wee hole,Else Lamkin wad be in.5Noorice steekit dor an window,She steekit them to the gin;But she left a little wee holeThat Lamkin might win in.6‘O where’s the lady o this house?’Said cruel Lamkin;‘She’s up the stair sleepin,’Said fause noorice then.7‘How will we get her down the stair?’Said cruel Lamkin;‘We’l stogg the baby i the cradle,’Said fause noorice then.8He stoggit, and she rockit,Till a’ the floor swam,An a’ the tors o the cradleRed wi blude ran.9‘O still my son, noorise,O still him wi the kane;’‘He winna still, madam,Till Lariston come hame.’10‘O still my son, noorice,O still him wi the knife;’‘I canna still him, madam,If ye sude tak my life.’11‘O still my soon, noorice,O still him wi the bell;’‘He winna still, madam,Come see him yoursel.’12Wae an weary rase she up,Slowly pat her onHer green claethin o the silk,An slowly came she down.13The first step she steppit,It was on a stone;The first body she sawWas cruel Lamkin.14‘O pity, pity, Lamkin,Hae pity on me!’‘Just as meikle pity, madam,As ye paid me o my fee.’15‘I’ll g’ye a peck o good red goud,Streekit wi the wand;An if that winna please ye,I’ll heap it wi my hand.16‘An if that winna please ye,O goud an o fee,I’ll g’ye my eldest daughter,Your wedded wife to be.’17‘Gae wash the bason, lady,Gae wash’t an mak it clean,To kep your mother’s heart’s-blude,For she’s of noble kin.’18‘To kep my mother’s heart’s-bludeI wad be right wae;O tak mysel, Lamkin,An let my mother gae.’19‘Gae wash the bason, noorice,Gae wash’t an mak it clean,To kep your lady’s heart’s-blude,For she’s o noble kin.’20‘To wash the bason, Lamkin,I will be right glad,For mony, mony bursen dayAbout her house I’ve had.’21But oh, what dule an sorrowWas about that lord’s ha,When he fand his lady lyinAs white as driven snaw!22O what dule an sorrowWhan that good lord cam in,An fand his young son murderd,I the chimley lyin!

1Lamkin was as good a masonAs ever liftit stane;He built to the laird o Lariston,But payment gat he nane.

Lamkin was as good a mason

As ever liftit stane;

He built to the laird o Lariston,

But payment gat he nane.

2Oft he came, an ay he came,To that good lord’s yett,But neither at dor nor windowOny entrance could get.

Oft he came, an ay he came,

To that good lord’s yett,

But neither at dor nor window

Ony entrance could get.

3Till ae wae an weary dayEarly he came,An it fell out on that dayThat good lord was frae hame.

Till ae wae an weary day

Early he came,

An it fell out on that day

That good lord was frae hame.

4He bade steek dor an window,An prick them to the gin,Nor leave a little wee hole,Else Lamkin wad be in.

He bade steek dor an window,

An prick them to the gin,

Nor leave a little wee hole,

Else Lamkin wad be in.

5Noorice steekit dor an window,She steekit them to the gin;But she left a little wee holeThat Lamkin might win in.

Noorice steekit dor an window,

She steekit them to the gin;

But she left a little wee hole

That Lamkin might win in.

6‘O where’s the lady o this house?’Said cruel Lamkin;‘She’s up the stair sleepin,’Said fause noorice then.

‘O where’s the lady o this house?’

Said cruel Lamkin;

‘She’s up the stair sleepin,’

Said fause noorice then.

7‘How will we get her down the stair?’Said cruel Lamkin;‘We’l stogg the baby i the cradle,’Said fause noorice then.

‘How will we get her down the stair?’

Said cruel Lamkin;

‘We’l stogg the baby i the cradle,’

Said fause noorice then.

8He stoggit, and she rockit,Till a’ the floor swam,An a’ the tors o the cradleRed wi blude ran.

He stoggit, and she rockit,

Till a’ the floor swam,

An a’ the tors o the cradle

Red wi blude ran.

9‘O still my son, noorise,O still him wi the kane;’‘He winna still, madam,Till Lariston come hame.’

‘O still my son, noorise,

O still him wi the kane;’

‘He winna still, madam,

Till Lariston come hame.’

10‘O still my son, noorice,O still him wi the knife;’‘I canna still him, madam,If ye sude tak my life.’

‘O still my son, noorice,

O still him wi the knife;’

‘I canna still him, madam,

If ye sude tak my life.’

11‘O still my soon, noorice,O still him wi the bell;’‘He winna still, madam,Come see him yoursel.’

‘O still my soon, noorice,

O still him wi the bell;’

‘He winna still, madam,

Come see him yoursel.’

12Wae an weary rase she up,Slowly pat her onHer green claethin o the silk,An slowly came she down.

Wae an weary rase she up,

Slowly pat her on

Her green claethin o the silk,

An slowly came she down.

13The first step she steppit,It was on a stone;The first body she sawWas cruel Lamkin.

The first step she steppit,

It was on a stone;

The first body she saw

Was cruel Lamkin.

14‘O pity, pity, Lamkin,Hae pity on me!’‘Just as meikle pity, madam,As ye paid me o my fee.’

‘O pity, pity, Lamkin,

Hae pity on me!’

‘Just as meikle pity, madam,

As ye paid me o my fee.’

15‘I’ll g’ye a peck o good red goud,Streekit wi the wand;An if that winna please ye,I’ll heap it wi my hand.

‘I’ll g’ye a peck o good red goud,

Streekit wi the wand;

An if that winna please ye,

I’ll heap it wi my hand.

16‘An if that winna please ye,O goud an o fee,I’ll g’ye my eldest daughter,Your wedded wife to be.’

‘An if that winna please ye,

O goud an o fee,

I’ll g’ye my eldest daughter,

Your wedded wife to be.’

17‘Gae wash the bason, lady,Gae wash’t an mak it clean,To kep your mother’s heart’s-blude,For she’s of noble kin.’

‘Gae wash the bason, lady,

Gae wash’t an mak it clean,

To kep your mother’s heart’s-blude,

For she’s of noble kin.’

18‘To kep my mother’s heart’s-bludeI wad be right wae;O tak mysel, Lamkin,An let my mother gae.’

‘To kep my mother’s heart’s-blude

I wad be right wae;

O tak mysel, Lamkin,

An let my mother gae.’

19‘Gae wash the bason, noorice,Gae wash’t an mak it clean,To kep your lady’s heart’s-blude,For she’s o noble kin.’

‘Gae wash the bason, noorice,

Gae wash’t an mak it clean,

To kep your lady’s heart’s-blude,

For she’s o noble kin.’

20‘To wash the bason, Lamkin,I will be right glad,For mony, mony bursen dayAbout her house I’ve had.’

‘To wash the bason, Lamkin,

I will be right glad,

For mony, mony bursen day

About her house I’ve had.’

21But oh, what dule an sorrowWas about that lord’s ha,When he fand his lady lyinAs white as driven snaw!

But oh, what dule an sorrow

Was about that lord’s ha,

When he fand his lady lyin

As white as driven snaw!

22O what dule an sorrowWhan that good lord cam in,An fand his young son murderd,I the chimley lyin!

O what dule an sorrow

Whan that good lord cam in,

An fand his young son murderd,

I the chimley lyin!

92. kane. kame,B132. Butcf.wand,A162J102,M32.

P. 346, III, 516 a. Add ‘Leggenda Napitina’ (still sung by the sailors of Pizzo); communicated to La Calabria, June 15, 1889, p. 74, by Salvatore Mele; Canto Marinaresco di Nicotera, the same, September 15, 1890. A wife is rescued by her husband.

347 b.Swedish.‘Den bortsålda,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 22, No 6,a,b,c.

349 b, 514 a, III, 516 b, and especially 517 a. A wounded soldier calls to mother, sister, father, brother for a drink of water, and gets none; calls to his love, and she brings it: Waldau, Böhmische Granaten, II, 57, No 81.

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 127, Abbotsford. Sent to John Leyden, by whom and when does not appear.

1‘Hold your tongue, Lord Judge,’ she says,‘Yet hold it a little while;Methinks I see my ain dear fatherComing wandering many a mile.2‘O have you brought me gold, father?Or have you brought me fee?Or are you come to save my lifeFrom off this gallows-tree?’3‘I have not brought you gold, daughter,Nor have I brought you fee,But I am come to see you hangd,As you this day shall be.’

1‘Hold your tongue, Lord Judge,’ she says,‘Yet hold it a little while;Methinks I see my ain dear fatherComing wandering many a mile.

‘Hold your tongue, Lord Judge,’ she says,

‘Yet hold it a little while;

Methinks I see my ain dear father

Coming wandering many a mile.

2‘O have you brought me gold, father?Or have you brought me fee?Or are you come to save my lifeFrom off this gallows-tree?’

‘O have you brought me gold, father?

Or have you brought me fee?

Or are you come to save my life

From off this gallows-tree?’

3‘I have not brought you gold, daughter,Nor have I brought you fee,But I am come to see you hangd,As you this day shall be.’

‘I have not brought you gold, daughter,

Nor have I brought you fee,

But I am come to see you hangd,

As you this day shall be.’

[“The verses run thus untill she has seen her mother, her brother, and her sister likewise arrive, and then

Methinks I see my ain dear lover, etc.”]

4‘I have not brought you gold, true-love,Nor yet have I brought fee,But I am come to save thy lifeFrom off this gallows-tree.’5‘Gae hame, gae hame, father,’ she says,‘Gae hame and saw yer seed;And I wish not a pickle of it may grow up,But the thistle and the weed.6‘Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, mother,Gae hame and brew yer yill;And I wish the girds may a’ loup off,And the Deil spill a’ yer yill.7‘Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, brother,Gae hame and lie with yer wife;And I wish that the first news I may hearThat she has tane your life.8‘Gae hame, gae hame, sister,’ she says,‘Gae hame and sew yer seam;I wish that the needle-point may break,And the craws pyke out yer een.’

4‘I have not brought you gold, true-love,Nor yet have I brought fee,But I am come to save thy lifeFrom off this gallows-tree.’

‘I have not brought you gold, true-love,

Nor yet have I brought fee,

But I am come to save thy life

From off this gallows-tree.’

5‘Gae hame, gae hame, father,’ she says,‘Gae hame and saw yer seed;And I wish not a pickle of it may grow up,But the thistle and the weed.

‘Gae hame, gae hame, father,’ she says,

‘Gae hame and saw yer seed;

And I wish not a pickle of it may grow up,

But the thistle and the weed.

6‘Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, mother,Gae hame and brew yer yill;And I wish the girds may a’ loup off,And the Deil spill a’ yer yill.

‘Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, mother,

Gae hame and brew yer yill;

And I wish the girds may a’ loup off,

And the Deil spill a’ yer yill.

7‘Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, brother,Gae hame and lie with yer wife;And I wish that the first news I may hearThat she has tane your life.

‘Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, brother,

Gae hame and lie with yer wife;

And I wish that the first news I may hear

That she has tane your life.

8‘Gae hame, gae hame, sister,’ she says,‘Gae hame and sew yer seam;I wish that the needle-point may break,And the craws pyke out yer een.’

‘Gae hame, gae hame, sister,’ she says,

‘Gae hame and sew yer seam;

I wish that the needle-point may break,

And the craws pyke out yer een.’

Communicated by Dr George Birkbeck Hill, May 10, 1890, as learned forty years before from a schoolfellow, who came from the north of Somersetshire and sang it in the dialect of that region. Given from memory.

1‘Hold up, hold up your hands so high!Hold up your hands so high!For I think I see my own fatherComing over yonder stile to me.2‘Oh father, have you got any gold for me?Any money for to pay me free?To keep my body from the cold clay ground,And my neck from the gallows-tree?’3‘Oh no, I’ve got no gold for thee,No money for to pay thee free,For I’ve come to see thee hangd this day,And hangëd thou shalt be.’4‘Oh the briers, prickly briers,Come prick my heart so sore;If ever I get from the gallows-tree,I’ll never get there any more.’

1‘Hold up, hold up your hands so high!Hold up your hands so high!For I think I see my own fatherComing over yonder stile to me.

‘Hold up, hold up your hands so high!

Hold up your hands so high!

For I think I see my own father

Coming over yonder stile to me.

2‘Oh father, have you got any gold for me?Any money for to pay me free?To keep my body from the cold clay ground,And my neck from the gallows-tree?’

‘Oh father, have you got any gold for me?

Any money for to pay me free?

To keep my body from the cold clay ground,

And my neck from the gallows-tree?’

3‘Oh no, I’ve got no gold for thee,No money for to pay thee free,For I’ve come to see thee hangd this day,And hangëd thou shalt be.’

‘Oh no, I’ve got no gold for thee,

No money for to pay thee free,

For I’ve come to see thee hangd this day,

And hangëd thou shalt be.’

4‘Oh the briers, prickly briers,Come prick my heart so sore;If ever I get from the gallows-tree,I’ll never get there any more.’

‘Oh the briers, prickly briers,

Come prick my heart so sore;

If ever I get from the gallows-tree,

I’ll never get there any more.’

[“The same verses are repeated, with mother, brother, and sister substituted for father. At last the sweetheart comes. The two first verses are the same, and the third and fourth as follows.”]

5‘Oh yes, I’ve got some gold for thee,Some money for to pay thee free;I’ll save thy body from the cold clay ground,And thy neck from the gallows-tree.’6‘Oh the briers, prickly briers,Don’t prick my heart any more;For now I’ve got from the gallows-treeI’ll never get there any more.’

5‘Oh yes, I’ve got some gold for thee,Some money for to pay thee free;I’ll save thy body from the cold clay ground,And thy neck from the gallows-tree.’

‘Oh yes, I’ve got some gold for thee,

Some money for to pay thee free;

I’ll save thy body from the cold clay ground,

And thy neck from the gallows-tree.’

6‘Oh the briers, prickly briers,Don’t prick my heart any more;For now I’ve got from the gallows-treeI’ll never get there any more.’

‘Oh the briers, prickly briers,

Don’t prick my heart any more;

For now I’ve got from the gallows-tree

I’ll never get there any more.’

[“I do not know any title to this song except ‘Hold up, hold up your hands so high!’ It was by that title that we called for it.”]

Julius Krohn has lately made an important contribution to our knowledge of this ballad in an article in Virittäjä, II, 36–50, translated into German under the title ‘Das Lied vom Mädchen welches erlöst werden soll,’ Helsingfors, 1891. Professor Estlander had previously discussed the ballad in Finsk Tidskrift, X, 1881 (which I have not yet seen), and had sought to show that it was of Finnish origin, a view which Krohn disputes and refutes. There are nearly fifty Finnish versions. The curse with whichIends, and which is noted as occurring in SwedishC(compare also the Sicilian ballad), is never wanting in the Finnish, and is found also in the Esthonian copies.

P. 356 a, III, 517 a. Add: (18) ‘La Fille dans la Tour,’ Daymard, Vieux Chants p. rec. en Quercy, p. 174 ; (19) ‘La belle dans la Tour,’ Pas de Calais, communicated by M. G. Doncieux to Revue des Traditions populaires, VI, 603 ; (20) ‘Belle Idoine,’ Questionnaire de Folklore, publié par la Société du Folklore Wallon, p. 79.

M. Doucieux has attempted a reconstruction of the text in Mélusine, V, 265 ff. He cites M. Gaston Paris as having lately pointed out a striking similitude between the first half of the French popular ballad and that of a little romance of Bele Ydoine composed in the twelfth century by Audefrois le Bastars (Bartsch, Altfranzösische Romanzen und Pastourellen, p. 59, No 57). This resemblance has, I suppose, occasioned the title of ‘Belle Idoine’ to be given editorially to No 20 above, for the name does not occur in the ballad.

356 b, III, 517 a. Add: ‘Au Jardin des Olives,’ Guillon, p. 83, ‘Dessous le Rosier blanc,’ Daymard, p. 171 (Les trois Capitaines). A girl feigns death to avoid becoming a king’s mistress, ‘Hertig Henrik och Konungen,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 117, No 37.

363.E.The following is the MS. copy, “of some antiquity,” from whichEwas in part constructed. (Whether it be the original or a transcript cannot be determined, but Mr Macmath informs me that the paper on which it is written “seems about the oldest sheet in the volume.”) The text was freely handled. ‘Lord William’ does not occur in it, but the name is found in another version which follows this.

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 146 a, Abbotsford.

1‘O waly, waly, my gay goss-hawk,Gin your feathering be sheen!’‘O waly, waly, my master dear,Gin ye look pale and lean!2‘Whether is it for the gold sae rid,Or is it for the silver clear?Or is it for the lass in southen land,That she cannot win here.’3‘It is not for the gold sae rid,Nor is it for the silver clear,But it is for the lass in southen land,That she cannot win her[e].’4‘Sit down, sit down, my master dear,Write a love-letter hastily,And put it in under my feathern gray,And I’ll away to southen land as fast as I can flee.5‘But how shall I your true-love ken?Or how shall I her know?I bear the tongue never wi her spake,The eye that never her saw.’6‘The red that is in my love’s cheekIs like blood spilt amang the snaw;The white that is on her breast-boneIs like the down on the white sea-maw.7‘There’s one that stands at my love’s gateAnd opens the silver pin,And there ye may safely set ye onAnd sing a lovely song.8‘First ye may sing it loud, loud, loud,And then ye may sing it clear,And ay the oerword of the tuneIs, Your love cannot win here.’9He has written a love-letter,Put it under his feathern gray,And he’s awa to southen land,As fast as ever he may.10When he came to the lady’s gate,There he lighted down,And there he sat him on the pinAnd sang a lovely song.11First he sang it loud, loud, loud,And then he sang it clear,And ay the oerword of the tuneWas, Your love cannot win here.12‘Hold your tongues, my merry maids all,And hold them a little while;I hear some word from my true-love,That lives in Scotland’s isle.’13Up she rose, to the door she goes,To hear what the bird woud say,And he’s let the love-letter fallFrom under his feathern gray.14When she looked the letter on,The tear blinded her eye,And when she read it oer and oerA loud laughter took she.15‘Go hame, go hame, my bonny bird,And to your master tell,If I be nae wi him at Martinmass,I shall be wi him at Yule.’16The lady’s to her chamber gane,And a sick woman grew she;The lady’s taen a sudden brash,And nathing she’ll do but die.17‘An asking, an asking, my father dear,An asking grant to me!If that I die in southen land,In Scotland bury me.’18‘Ask on, ask on, my daughter dear,That asking is granted thee;If that you die in southen land,In Scotland I’ll bury thee.’19‘Gar call to me my seven bretheren,To hew to me my bier,The one half of the beaten gold,The other of the silver clear.20‘Go call to me my seven sisters,To sew to me my caul;Every needle-steik that they put inPut by a silver bell.’21The first Scots kirk that they came to,They heard the mavis sing;The next Scots kirk that they came to,They heard the dead-bell ring.22The next Scots kirk that they came to,They were playing at the foot-ball,And her true-love was them among,The chieftian amangst them all.23‘Set down, set down these corps,’ said he,‘Let me look them upon;’As soon as he lookd the lady on,The blood sprang in her chin.24‘One bite of your bread, my love,And one glass of your wine!For I have fasted these five long days,All for your sake and mine.25‘Go hame, go hame, my seven brothers,Go hame and blaw your horn,And ye may tell thro southen landHow I playd you the scorn.’26‘Woe to you, my sister dear,And ane ill death may you die!For we left father and mother at hameBreaking their heart for thee.’

1‘O waly, waly, my gay goss-hawk,Gin your feathering be sheen!’‘O waly, waly, my master dear,Gin ye look pale and lean!

‘O waly, waly, my gay goss-hawk,

Gin your feathering be sheen!’

‘O waly, waly, my master dear,

Gin ye look pale and lean!

2‘Whether is it for the gold sae rid,Or is it for the silver clear?Or is it for the lass in southen land,That she cannot win here.’

‘Whether is it for the gold sae rid,

Or is it for the silver clear?

Or is it for the lass in southen land,

That she cannot win here.’

3‘It is not for the gold sae rid,Nor is it for the silver clear,But it is for the lass in southen land,That she cannot win her[e].’

‘It is not for the gold sae rid,

Nor is it for the silver clear,

But it is for the lass in southen land,

That she cannot win her[e].’

4‘Sit down, sit down, my master dear,Write a love-letter hastily,And put it in under my feathern gray,And I’ll away to southen land as fast as I can flee.

‘Sit down, sit down, my master dear,

Write a love-letter hastily,

And put it in under my feathern gray,

And I’ll away to southen land as fast as I can flee.

5‘But how shall I your true-love ken?Or how shall I her know?I bear the tongue never wi her spake,The eye that never her saw.’

‘But how shall I your true-love ken?

Or how shall I her know?

I bear the tongue never wi her spake,

The eye that never her saw.’

6‘The red that is in my love’s cheekIs like blood spilt amang the snaw;The white that is on her breast-boneIs like the down on the white sea-maw.

‘The red that is in my love’s cheek

Is like blood spilt amang the snaw;

The white that is on her breast-bone

Is like the down on the white sea-maw.

7‘There’s one that stands at my love’s gateAnd opens the silver pin,And there ye may safely set ye onAnd sing a lovely song.

‘There’s one that stands at my love’s gate

And opens the silver pin,

And there ye may safely set ye on

And sing a lovely song.

8‘First ye may sing it loud, loud, loud,And then ye may sing it clear,And ay the oerword of the tuneIs, Your love cannot win here.’

‘First ye may sing it loud, loud, loud,

And then ye may sing it clear,

And ay the oerword of the tune

Is, Your love cannot win here.’

9He has written a love-letter,Put it under his feathern gray,And he’s awa to southen land,As fast as ever he may.

He has written a love-letter,

Put it under his feathern gray,

And he’s awa to southen land,

As fast as ever he may.

10When he came to the lady’s gate,There he lighted down,And there he sat him on the pinAnd sang a lovely song.

When he came to the lady’s gate,

There he lighted down,

And there he sat him on the pin

And sang a lovely song.

11First he sang it loud, loud, loud,And then he sang it clear,And ay the oerword of the tuneWas, Your love cannot win here.

First he sang it loud, loud, loud,

And then he sang it clear,

And ay the oerword of the tune

Was, Your love cannot win here.

12‘Hold your tongues, my merry maids all,And hold them a little while;I hear some word from my true-love,That lives in Scotland’s isle.’

‘Hold your tongues, my merry maids all,

And hold them a little while;

I hear some word from my true-love,

That lives in Scotland’s isle.’

13Up she rose, to the door she goes,To hear what the bird woud say,And he’s let the love-letter fallFrom under his feathern gray.

Up she rose, to the door she goes,

To hear what the bird woud say,

And he’s let the love-letter fall

From under his feathern gray.

14When she looked the letter on,The tear blinded her eye,And when she read it oer and oerA loud laughter took she.

When she looked the letter on,

The tear blinded her eye,

And when she read it oer and oer

A loud laughter took she.

15‘Go hame, go hame, my bonny bird,And to your master tell,If I be nae wi him at Martinmass,I shall be wi him at Yule.’

‘Go hame, go hame, my bonny bird,

And to your master tell,

If I be nae wi him at Martinmass,

I shall be wi him at Yule.’

16The lady’s to her chamber gane,And a sick woman grew she;The lady’s taen a sudden brash,And nathing she’ll do but die.

The lady’s to her chamber gane,

And a sick woman grew she;

The lady’s taen a sudden brash,

And nathing she’ll do but die.

17‘An asking, an asking, my father dear,An asking grant to me!If that I die in southen land,In Scotland bury me.’

‘An asking, an asking, my father dear,

An asking grant to me!

If that I die in southen land,

In Scotland bury me.’

18‘Ask on, ask on, my daughter dear,That asking is granted thee;If that you die in southen land,In Scotland I’ll bury thee.’

‘Ask on, ask on, my daughter dear,

That asking is granted thee;

If that you die in southen land,

In Scotland I’ll bury thee.’

19‘Gar call to me my seven bretheren,To hew to me my bier,The one half of the beaten gold,The other of the silver clear.

‘Gar call to me my seven bretheren,

To hew to me my bier,

The one half of the beaten gold,

The other of the silver clear.

20‘Go call to me my seven sisters,To sew to me my caul;Every needle-steik that they put inPut by a silver bell.’

‘Go call to me my seven sisters,

To sew to me my caul;

Every needle-steik that they put in

Put by a silver bell.’

21The first Scots kirk that they came to,They heard the mavis sing;The next Scots kirk that they came to,They heard the dead-bell ring.

The first Scots kirk that they came to,

They heard the mavis sing;

The next Scots kirk that they came to,

They heard the dead-bell ring.

22The next Scots kirk that they came to,They were playing at the foot-ball,And her true-love was them among,The chieftian amangst them all.

The next Scots kirk that they came to,

They were playing at the foot-ball,

And her true-love was them among,

The chieftian amangst them all.

23‘Set down, set down these corps,’ said he,‘Let me look them upon;’As soon as he lookd the lady on,The blood sprang in her chin.

‘Set down, set down these corps,’ said he,

‘Let me look them upon;’

As soon as he lookd the lady on,

The blood sprang in her chin.

24‘One bite of your bread, my love,And one glass of your wine!For I have fasted these five long days,All for your sake and mine.

‘One bite of your bread, my love,

And one glass of your wine!

For I have fasted these five long days,

All for your sake and mine.

25‘Go hame, go hame, my seven brothers,Go hame and blaw your horn,And ye may tell thro southen landHow I playd you the scorn.’

‘Go hame, go hame, my seven brothers,

Go hame and blaw your horn,

And ye may tell thro southen land

How I playd you the scorn.’

26‘Woe to you, my sister dear,And ane ill death may you die!For we left father and mother at hameBreaking their heart for thee.’

‘Woe to you, my sister dear,

And ane ill death may you die!

For we left father and mother at hame

Breaking their heart for thee.’

The Ettrick Shepherd sent Scott the following stanzas to be inserted in the first edition at places indicated. Most of them are either absolutely base metal or very much worn by circulation. The clever contrivance for breathing (found also inG39,H19) and the bribing of the surgeon provoke scorn and resentment.

‘Gay Gos Hawk,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 143, No 133 a, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg.

After 12 of ed. 1802 (E 13):He happit off the flowry birk,Sat down on the yett-pin,And sang sae sweet the notes o loveTill a’ was coush within.After 15 (E 16):‘O ye maun send your love a kiss,For he has sent you three;O ye maun send your love a kiss,And ye maun send it wi me.’‘He has the rings off my fingers,The garland off my hair;He has the heart out o my bouk,What can I send him mair?’After 22:‘The third Scotts kirk that ye gang toYe’s gar them blaw the horn,That a’ the lords o fair ScotlandMay hear afore the morn.’After 23:She wyld a wright to bore her chest,For caller air she’d need;She brib’d her surgeon wi the goudTo say that she was dead.After 25:‘What ails, what ails my daughter dearHer colour bides sae fine?’The surgeon-lad reply’d again,She’s nouther pin’d nor lien.After 30:The third Scotts kirk that they cam to,Sae loud they blew the horn,An a’ the lads on yon waterWas warnd afore the morn.After 31:‘Set down, set down the bier,’ he said,‘These comely corps I’ll see;’‘Away, away,’ her brothers said,‘For nae sick thing shall be.‘Her een are sunk, her lips are cold,Her rosy colour gane;‘T is nine lang nights an nine lang daysSin she deceasd at hame.’‘Wer’t nine times nine an nine times nine,My true-love’s face I’ll see;Set down the bier, or here I swearMy prisners you shall be.’He drew the nails frae the coffin,An liftit up the cone,An for a’ sae lang as she’d been deadShe smil’d her love upon.After 35:‘And tell my father he sent meTo rot in Scotland’s clay;But he sent me to my Willie,To be his lady gay.’

After 12 of ed. 1802 (E 13):

He happit off the flowry birk,Sat down on the yett-pin,And sang sae sweet the notes o loveTill a’ was coush within.

He happit off the flowry birk,

Sat down on the yett-pin,

And sang sae sweet the notes o love

Till a’ was coush within.

After 15 (E 16):‘O ye maun send your love a kiss,For he has sent you three;O ye maun send your love a kiss,And ye maun send it wi me.’

After 15 (E 16):

‘O ye maun send your love a kiss,

For he has sent you three;

O ye maun send your love a kiss,

And ye maun send it wi me.’

‘He has the rings off my fingers,The garland off my hair;He has the heart out o my bouk,What can I send him mair?’

‘He has the rings off my fingers,

The garland off my hair;

He has the heart out o my bouk,

What can I send him mair?’

After 22:‘The third Scotts kirk that ye gang toYe’s gar them blaw the horn,That a’ the lords o fair ScotlandMay hear afore the morn.’

After 22:

‘The third Scotts kirk that ye gang to

Ye’s gar them blaw the horn,

That a’ the lords o fair Scotland

May hear afore the morn.’

After 23:She wyld a wright to bore her chest,For caller air she’d need;She brib’d her surgeon wi the goudTo say that she was dead.

After 23:

She wyld a wright to bore her chest,

For caller air she’d need;

She brib’d her surgeon wi the goud

To say that she was dead.

After 25:‘What ails, what ails my daughter dearHer colour bides sae fine?’The surgeon-lad reply’d again,She’s nouther pin’d nor lien.

After 25:

‘What ails, what ails my daughter dear

Her colour bides sae fine?’

The surgeon-lad reply’d again,

She’s nouther pin’d nor lien.

After 30:The third Scotts kirk that they cam to,Sae loud they blew the horn,An a’ the lads on yon waterWas warnd afore the morn.

After 30:

The third Scotts kirk that they cam to,

Sae loud they blew the horn,

An a’ the lads on yon water

Was warnd afore the morn.

After 31:‘Set down, set down the bier,’ he said,‘These comely corps I’ll see;’‘Away, away,’ her brothers said,‘For nae sick thing shall be.

After 31:

‘Set down, set down the bier,’ he said,

‘These comely corps I’ll see;’

‘Away, away,’ her brothers said,

‘For nae sick thing shall be.

‘Her een are sunk, her lips are cold,Her rosy colour gane;‘T is nine lang nights an nine lang daysSin she deceasd at hame.’

‘Her een are sunk, her lips are cold,

Her rosy colour gane;

‘T is nine lang nights an nine lang days

Sin she deceasd at hame.’

‘Wer’t nine times nine an nine times nine,My true-love’s face I’ll see;Set down the bier, or here I swearMy prisners you shall be.’

‘Wer’t nine times nine an nine times nine,

My true-love’s face I’ll see;

Set down the bier, or here I swear

My prisners you shall be.’

He drew the nails frae the coffin,An liftit up the cone,An for a’ sae lang as she’d been deadShe smil’d her love upon.

He drew the nails frae the coffin,

An liftit up the cone,

An for a’ sae lang as she’d been dead

She smil’d her love upon.

After 35:‘And tell my father he sent meTo rot in Scotland’s clay;But he sent me to my Willie,To be his lady gay.’

After 35:

‘And tell my father he sent me

To rot in Scotland’s clay;

But he sent me to my Willie,

To be his lady gay.’

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 28 b, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.

1Lord William was walkin i the garden green,Viewin the roses red,An there he spyed his bonnie spier-hawk,Was fleein aboon his head.2‘O could ye speak, my bonnie spier-hawk,As ye hae wings to flee,Then ye wad carry a luve-letterAtween my love an me.’3‘But how can I your true-love ken?Or how can I her know?Or how can I your true-love ken,The face I never saw?’4‘Ye may esily my love kenAmang them ye never saw;The red that’s on o my love’s cheekIs like bluid drapt on the snaw.’* * * * * *5‘O what will be my meat, master?An what’ll be my fee?An what will be the love-tokensThat ye will send wi me?’6‘Ye may tell my love I’ll send her a kiss,A kiss, aye, will I three;If ever she come [to] fair Scotland,My wedded wife she’s be.7‘Ye may tell my love I’ll send her a kiss,A kiss, aye, will I twae;An ever she come to fair Scotland,I the red gold she sall gae.’* * * * * *8The hawk flew high, an she flew leugh,An south aneath the sun,Untill it cam, etc.9‘Sit still, sit still, my six sisters,An sew your silken seam,Till I gae to my bower-windowAn hear yon Scottish bird sing.’10Than she flew high, an she flew leugh,An’ far aboon the wa;She drapit to that ladie’s side,An loot the letter fa.11‘What news, what news, my bonnie burd?An what word carry ye?An what are a’ the love-tokensMy love has sent to me?’12‘O ye may send your love a kiss,For he has sent ye three;Ye hae the heart within his buik,What mair can he send thee?’13‘O I will send my love a kiss,A kiss, I, will I three;If I can win to fair Scotland,His wedded wife I’ll be.14‘O I will send my love a kiss,An the caim out o my hair;He has the heart that’s in my buik,What can I send him mair?15‘An gae yer ways, my bonnie burd,An tell my love frae me,If [I] be na there gin Martinmas,Gin Yool I there will be.’* * * * * *16’Twas up an spak her ill step-minnie,An ill deed may she die!‘Yer daughter Janet’s taen her bed,An she’ll do nought but die.’17‘An askin, an askin, dear father,An askin I crave o thee;If I should die just at this time,In Scotland burry me.’18‘There’s room enough in wide EnglandTo burry thee an me;But sould ye die, my dear daughter,I Scotland I’ll burry thee.’19She’s warnd the wrights in lilly Londeen,She’s warnd them ane an a’,To mak a kist wi three windows,The cauler air to blaw.20‘O will ye gae, my six sisters,An sew to me a sheet,The tae half o the silk sae fine,The tother o cambric white.’21Then they hae askit the surgeon at, etc.22Then said her cruel step-minnie,Take ye the boilin leadAn some o ‘t drap on her bosom;We’ll see gif she be dead.23Then boilin lead than they hae taenAn drappit on her breast;‘Alas! alas!’ than her father he cried,‘For she’s dead without the priest!’24She neither chatterd in her teethNor shivert wi her chin;‘Alas! alas!’ her father cried,‘For there nae life within!’* * * * * *25‘It’s nine lang days, an nine lang nights,She’s wantit meat for me;But for nine days, nine langer nights,Her face ye salna see.’26He’s taen the coffin wi his fit,Gard it in flinders flie, etc.27‘Fetch me,’ she said, ‘a cake o yer breadAn a wi drap o your wine,For luve o you an for your sakeI’ve fastit lang nights nine.’28’Twas up then spak an eldrin knight,A grey-haird knight was he;‘Now ye hae left yer auld father,For you he’s like to die.29‘An ye hae left yer sax sistersLamentin a’ for you;I wiss that this, my dear ladie,Ye near may hae to rue.’30‘Commend me to my auld father,If eer ye come him niest;But nought say to my ill step-minnie.Gard burn me on the breist.31‘Commend me to my six sisters,If ye gang bak again;But nought say to my ill step-minnie,Gard burn me on the chin.32‘Commend me to my brethren bald,An ever ye them see;If ever they come to fair ScotlandThey’s fare nae war than me.33‘For I cam na to fair ScotlandTo lie amang the dead,But I cam down to fair ScotlandTo wear goud on my head.34‘Nor did I come to fair ScotlandTo rot amang the clay,But I cam to fair ScotlandTo wear goud ilka day.’

1Lord William was walkin i the garden green,Viewin the roses red,An there he spyed his bonnie spier-hawk,Was fleein aboon his head.

Lord William was walkin i the garden green,

Viewin the roses red,

An there he spyed his bonnie spier-hawk,

Was fleein aboon his head.

2‘O could ye speak, my bonnie spier-hawk,As ye hae wings to flee,Then ye wad carry a luve-letterAtween my love an me.’

‘O could ye speak, my bonnie spier-hawk,

As ye hae wings to flee,

Then ye wad carry a luve-letter

Atween my love an me.’

3‘But how can I your true-love ken?Or how can I her know?Or how can I your true-love ken,The face I never saw?’

‘But how can I your true-love ken?

Or how can I her know?

Or how can I your true-love ken,

The face I never saw?’

4‘Ye may esily my love kenAmang them ye never saw;The red that’s on o my love’s cheekIs like bluid drapt on the snaw.’

‘Ye may esily my love ken

Amang them ye never saw;

The red that’s on o my love’s cheek

Is like bluid drapt on the snaw.’

* * * * * *

5‘O what will be my meat, master?An what’ll be my fee?An what will be the love-tokensThat ye will send wi me?’

‘O what will be my meat, master?

An what’ll be my fee?

An what will be the love-tokens

That ye will send wi me?’

6‘Ye may tell my love I’ll send her a kiss,A kiss, aye, will I three;If ever she come [to] fair Scotland,My wedded wife she’s be.

‘Ye may tell my love I’ll send her a kiss,

A kiss, aye, will I three;

If ever she come [to] fair Scotland,

My wedded wife she’s be.

7‘Ye may tell my love I’ll send her a kiss,A kiss, aye, will I twae;An ever she come to fair Scotland,I the red gold she sall gae.’

‘Ye may tell my love I’ll send her a kiss,

A kiss, aye, will I twae;

An ever she come to fair Scotland,

I the red gold she sall gae.’

* * * * * *

8The hawk flew high, an she flew leugh,An south aneath the sun,Untill it cam, etc.

The hawk flew high, an she flew leugh,

An south aneath the sun,

Untill it cam, etc.

9‘Sit still, sit still, my six sisters,An sew your silken seam,Till I gae to my bower-windowAn hear yon Scottish bird sing.’

‘Sit still, sit still, my six sisters,

An sew your silken seam,

Till I gae to my bower-window

An hear yon Scottish bird sing.’

10Than she flew high, an she flew leugh,An’ far aboon the wa;She drapit to that ladie’s side,An loot the letter fa.

Than she flew high, an she flew leugh,

An’ far aboon the wa;

She drapit to that ladie’s side,

An loot the letter fa.

11‘What news, what news, my bonnie burd?An what word carry ye?An what are a’ the love-tokensMy love has sent to me?’

‘What news, what news, my bonnie burd?

An what word carry ye?

An what are a’ the love-tokens

My love has sent to me?’

12‘O ye may send your love a kiss,For he has sent ye three;Ye hae the heart within his buik,What mair can he send thee?’

‘O ye may send your love a kiss,

For he has sent ye three;

Ye hae the heart within his buik,

What mair can he send thee?’

13‘O I will send my love a kiss,A kiss, I, will I three;If I can win to fair Scotland,His wedded wife I’ll be.

‘O I will send my love a kiss,

A kiss, I, will I three;

If I can win to fair Scotland,

His wedded wife I’ll be.

14‘O I will send my love a kiss,An the caim out o my hair;He has the heart that’s in my buik,What can I send him mair?

‘O I will send my love a kiss,

An the caim out o my hair;

He has the heart that’s in my buik,

What can I send him mair?

15‘An gae yer ways, my bonnie burd,An tell my love frae me,If [I] be na there gin Martinmas,Gin Yool I there will be.’

‘An gae yer ways, my bonnie burd,

An tell my love frae me,

If [I] be na there gin Martinmas,

Gin Yool I there will be.’

* * * * * *

16’Twas up an spak her ill step-minnie,An ill deed may she die!‘Yer daughter Janet’s taen her bed,An she’ll do nought but die.’

’Twas up an spak her ill step-minnie,

An ill deed may she die!

‘Yer daughter Janet’s taen her bed,

An she’ll do nought but die.’

17‘An askin, an askin, dear father,An askin I crave o thee;If I should die just at this time,In Scotland burry me.’

‘An askin, an askin, dear father,

An askin I crave o thee;

If I should die just at this time,

In Scotland burry me.’

18‘There’s room enough in wide EnglandTo burry thee an me;But sould ye die, my dear daughter,I Scotland I’ll burry thee.’

‘There’s room enough in wide England

To burry thee an me;

But sould ye die, my dear daughter,

I Scotland I’ll burry thee.’

19She’s warnd the wrights in lilly Londeen,She’s warnd them ane an a’,To mak a kist wi three windows,The cauler air to blaw.

She’s warnd the wrights in lilly Londeen,

She’s warnd them ane an a’,

To mak a kist wi three windows,

The cauler air to blaw.

20‘O will ye gae, my six sisters,An sew to me a sheet,The tae half o the silk sae fine,The tother o cambric white.’

‘O will ye gae, my six sisters,

An sew to me a sheet,

The tae half o the silk sae fine,

The tother o cambric white.’

21Then they hae askit the surgeon at, etc.

Then they hae askit the surgeon at, etc.

22Then said her cruel step-minnie,Take ye the boilin leadAn some o ‘t drap on her bosom;We’ll see gif she be dead.

Then said her cruel step-minnie,

Take ye the boilin lead

An some o ‘t drap on her bosom;

We’ll see gif she be dead.

23Then boilin lead than they hae taenAn drappit on her breast;‘Alas! alas!’ than her father he cried,‘For she’s dead without the priest!’

Then boilin lead than they hae taen

An drappit on her breast;

‘Alas! alas!’ than her father he cried,

‘For she’s dead without the priest!’

24She neither chatterd in her teethNor shivert wi her chin;‘Alas! alas!’ her father cried,‘For there nae life within!’

She neither chatterd in her teeth

Nor shivert wi her chin;

‘Alas! alas!’ her father cried,

‘For there nae life within!’

* * * * * *

25‘It’s nine lang days, an nine lang nights,She’s wantit meat for me;But for nine days, nine langer nights,Her face ye salna see.’

‘It’s nine lang days, an nine lang nights,

She’s wantit meat for me;

But for nine days, nine langer nights,

Her face ye salna see.’

26He’s taen the coffin wi his fit,Gard it in flinders flie, etc.

He’s taen the coffin wi his fit,

Gard it in flinders flie, etc.

27‘Fetch me,’ she said, ‘a cake o yer breadAn a wi drap o your wine,For luve o you an for your sakeI’ve fastit lang nights nine.’

‘Fetch me,’ she said, ‘a cake o yer bread

An a wi drap o your wine,

For luve o you an for your sake

I’ve fastit lang nights nine.’

28’Twas up then spak an eldrin knight,A grey-haird knight was he;‘Now ye hae left yer auld father,For you he’s like to die.

’Twas up then spak an eldrin knight,

A grey-haird knight was he;

‘Now ye hae left yer auld father,

For you he’s like to die.

29‘An ye hae left yer sax sistersLamentin a’ for you;I wiss that this, my dear ladie,Ye near may hae to rue.’

‘An ye hae left yer sax sisters

Lamentin a’ for you;

I wiss that this, my dear ladie,

Ye near may hae to rue.’

30‘Commend me to my auld father,If eer ye come him niest;But nought say to my ill step-minnie.Gard burn me on the breist.

‘Commend me to my auld father,

If eer ye come him niest;

But nought say to my ill step-minnie.

Gard burn me on the breist.

31‘Commend me to my six sisters,If ye gang bak again;But nought say to my ill step-minnie,Gard burn me on the chin.

‘Commend me to my six sisters,

If ye gang bak again;

But nought say to my ill step-minnie,

Gard burn me on the chin.

32‘Commend me to my brethren bald,An ever ye them see;If ever they come to fair ScotlandThey’s fare nae war than me.

‘Commend me to my brethren bald,

An ever ye them see;

If ever they come to fair Scotland

They’s fare nae war than me.

33‘For I cam na to fair ScotlandTo lie amang the dead,But I cam down to fair ScotlandTo wear goud on my head.

‘For I cam na to fair Scotland

To lie amang the dead,

But I cam down to fair Scotland

To wear goud on my head.

34‘Nor did I come to fair ScotlandTo rot amang the clay,But I cam to fair ScotlandTo wear goud ilka day.’

‘Nor did I come to fair Scotland

To rot amang the clay,

But I cam to fair Scotland

To wear goud ilka day.’

102.Var.aboon them a’.

367 b. The second edition of the Minstrelsy, 1803, II, 6, inserted 13, from Hogg’s communication, substituted 22, 23, 24 of Laidlaw’s (H) for 27, 28, introduced 30 of Laidlaw after 36 (all with changes), and made the consequently necessary alteration in 37.

P. 378 b. Another copy of the Breton ballad, ‘Lézobré,’ in Quellien, Chansons et Danses des Bretons, 1889, p. 65.

379 ff.

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 4 a, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.

1Young Johnie’s up to England ganeThree quarters of a year;Young Johnie’s up to England gane,The king’s banner for to bear.2But he had not in England beenThe one half of the timeTill the fairest laidy in all the courtWas going with child to him.3Word unto the kitchen’s gane,And word’s to the hall,And word unto the court has gane,Among the nobles all.4And word unto the chamber’s gane,The place where the king sat,That his only daughter is with childTo Johnie, the little Scott.5‘If this be true,’ then sais the king,‘As I true well it be,I’ll put hir in a strong castle,And hungre hir till she dee.’6Hir breast-plate was made of iron,In place of the beaten gold,A belt of steel about hir waist,And O but she was cold!7‘O where will I get a pritty little boy,That will win hoes and shoon,That will go doun to yonder leeAnd tell my Johnie to come?’8‘Here am I, a pritty little boy,That will win hoes and shoon,And I’ll go doun to yonder leeAnd tell young Johnie to come.’9She has wrote a brod letter,And seald it tenderly,And she has sent it to Johnie the Scott,That lay on yonder lee.10When Johnie first the letter got,A blith, blith man was he;But or he read the half of itThe salt teer blind Johnie’s ee.11‘I will go to fair England,’ says he,‘What ever may betide,For to releave that gay laidyWho last lay by my side.’12Up then spoke his old mother,A sorrifull woman was she;‘If you go to England, John,I’ll never see you mare.’13Up then spoke Johnie’s father,His head was growing gray;‘If you go to England, John,O fair you well for me!’14Up then spoke Johnie’s uncle,Our Scottish king was he;‘Five hundred of my merry menShall bear you company.’15When Johnie was mounted on his steedHe looked wondorous bold,The hair that oer his shouldiers hangLike threeds of yellow gold.16‘Now come along with me, my men,O come along with me,We’l blow thier castles in the air,And set free my gay laidy.’17The first gay town that they came to,Made mass for to be sung;The nixt gay town that they came to,Made bells for to be rung.18But when they came to London town,They made the drums beat round,Who made the king and all his courtTo wonder at the sound.19‘Is this the Duke of Mulberry,Or James the Scottish king?Or is it a young gentlemanTo England new come home?’20‘It is not the Duke of Mulberry,Nor James the Scottish [king];But it is a young gentleman,MacNaughten is his name.’21‘If MacNaughten be your name,’ says the king,‘As I true well it be,Before the morn at eight o clockDead hanged you shall be.’22Up bespoke one of Johnie’s little boys,And a well-spoke boy was he;‘Before we see our master hangd,We’l all fight till we dee.’23‘Well spoke, well spoke, my little boy,That is well spoke of thee;But I have a champian in my bowerThat will fight you three by three.’24Up then spoke Johnie himself,And he spoke manfully;‘If it please your Majesty,May I this champian see?’25The king and all his nobles thenRode down unto the plain,The queen and all [her] gay marries,To see young Johnie slain.26When the champian came out of the bower,He looked at Johnie with disdain;But upon the tope of Johnie’s brodswordThis champian soon was slain.27He fought on, and Johnie fought on,With swords of tempered steel,And ay the blood like dropes of rainCame trinkling down thier hiel.28The very nixt stroke that Johnie gave,He brought him till his knee;The nixt stroke that Johnie gave,He clove his head in twa.29He swapt his sword on every side,And turned him on the plain:‘Have you any more of your English dogsThat wants for to be slain?’30‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king he crys,‘I’ll seal her taucher free;’‘A priest, a priest!’ the queen she crys,‘For weded they shall be.’31‘I’ll have none of your [gold],’ say[s] he,‘Nor any of your white money;But I will have my ain true-love;This day she has cost me dear.’

1Young Johnie’s up to England ganeThree quarters of a year;Young Johnie’s up to England gane,The king’s banner for to bear.

Young Johnie’s up to England gane

Three quarters of a year;

Young Johnie’s up to England gane,

The king’s banner for to bear.

2But he had not in England beenThe one half of the timeTill the fairest laidy in all the courtWas going with child to him.

But he had not in England been

The one half of the time

Till the fairest laidy in all the court

Was going with child to him.

3Word unto the kitchen’s gane,And word’s to the hall,And word unto the court has gane,Among the nobles all.

Word unto the kitchen’s gane,

And word’s to the hall,

And word unto the court has gane,

Among the nobles all.

4And word unto the chamber’s gane,The place where the king sat,That his only daughter is with childTo Johnie, the little Scott.

And word unto the chamber’s gane,

The place where the king sat,

That his only daughter is with child

To Johnie, the little Scott.

5‘If this be true,’ then sais the king,‘As I true well it be,I’ll put hir in a strong castle,And hungre hir till she dee.’

‘If this be true,’ then sais the king,

‘As I true well it be,

I’ll put hir in a strong castle,

And hungre hir till she dee.’

6Hir breast-plate was made of iron,In place of the beaten gold,A belt of steel about hir waist,And O but she was cold!

Hir breast-plate was made of iron,

In place of the beaten gold,

A belt of steel about hir waist,

And O but she was cold!

7‘O where will I get a pritty little boy,That will win hoes and shoon,That will go doun to yonder leeAnd tell my Johnie to come?’

‘O where will I get a pritty little boy,

That will win hoes and shoon,

That will go doun to yonder lee

And tell my Johnie to come?’

8‘Here am I, a pritty little boy,That will win hoes and shoon,And I’ll go doun to yonder leeAnd tell young Johnie to come.’

‘Here am I, a pritty little boy,

That will win hoes and shoon,

And I’ll go doun to yonder lee

And tell young Johnie to come.’

9She has wrote a brod letter,And seald it tenderly,And she has sent it to Johnie the Scott,That lay on yonder lee.

She has wrote a brod letter,

And seald it tenderly,

And she has sent it to Johnie the Scott,

That lay on yonder lee.

10When Johnie first the letter got,A blith, blith man was he;But or he read the half of itThe salt teer blind Johnie’s ee.

When Johnie first the letter got,

A blith, blith man was he;

But or he read the half of it

The salt teer blind Johnie’s ee.

11‘I will go to fair England,’ says he,‘What ever may betide,For to releave that gay laidyWho last lay by my side.’

‘I will go to fair England,’ says he,

‘What ever may betide,

For to releave that gay laidy

Who last lay by my side.’

12Up then spoke his old mother,A sorrifull woman was she;‘If you go to England, John,I’ll never see you mare.’

Up then spoke his old mother,

A sorrifull woman was she;

‘If you go to England, John,

I’ll never see you mare.’

13Up then spoke Johnie’s father,His head was growing gray;‘If you go to England, John,O fair you well for me!’

Up then spoke Johnie’s father,

His head was growing gray;

‘If you go to England, John,

O fair you well for me!’

14Up then spoke Johnie’s uncle,Our Scottish king was he;‘Five hundred of my merry menShall bear you company.’

Up then spoke Johnie’s uncle,

Our Scottish king was he;

‘Five hundred of my merry men

Shall bear you company.’

15When Johnie was mounted on his steedHe looked wondorous bold,The hair that oer his shouldiers hangLike threeds of yellow gold.

When Johnie was mounted on his steed

He looked wondorous bold,

The hair that oer his shouldiers hang

Like threeds of yellow gold.

16‘Now come along with me, my men,O come along with me,We’l blow thier castles in the air,And set free my gay laidy.’

‘Now come along with me, my men,

O come along with me,

We’l blow thier castles in the air,

And set free my gay laidy.’

17The first gay town that they came to,Made mass for to be sung;The nixt gay town that they came to,Made bells for to be rung.

The first gay town that they came to,

Made mass for to be sung;

The nixt gay town that they came to,

Made bells for to be rung.

18But when they came to London town,They made the drums beat round,Who made the king and all his courtTo wonder at the sound.

But when they came to London town,

They made the drums beat round,

Who made the king and all his court

To wonder at the sound.

19‘Is this the Duke of Mulberry,Or James the Scottish king?Or is it a young gentlemanTo England new come home?’

‘Is this the Duke of Mulberry,

Or James the Scottish king?

Or is it a young gentleman

To England new come home?’

20‘It is not the Duke of Mulberry,Nor James the Scottish [king];But it is a young gentleman,MacNaughten is his name.’

‘It is not the Duke of Mulberry,

Nor James the Scottish [king];

But it is a young gentleman,

MacNaughten is his name.’

21‘If MacNaughten be your name,’ says the king,‘As I true well it be,Before the morn at eight o clockDead hanged you shall be.’

‘If MacNaughten be your name,’ says the king,

‘As I true well it be,

Before the morn at eight o clock

Dead hanged you shall be.’

22Up bespoke one of Johnie’s little boys,And a well-spoke boy was he;‘Before we see our master hangd,We’l all fight till we dee.’

Up bespoke one of Johnie’s little boys,

And a well-spoke boy was he;

‘Before we see our master hangd,

We’l all fight till we dee.’

23‘Well spoke, well spoke, my little boy,That is well spoke of thee;But I have a champian in my bowerThat will fight you three by three.’

‘Well spoke, well spoke, my little boy,

That is well spoke of thee;

But I have a champian in my bower

That will fight you three by three.’

24Up then spoke Johnie himself,And he spoke manfully;‘If it please your Majesty,May I this champian see?’

Up then spoke Johnie himself,

And he spoke manfully;

‘If it please your Majesty,

May I this champian see?’

25The king and all his nobles thenRode down unto the plain,The queen and all [her] gay marries,To see young Johnie slain.

The king and all his nobles then

Rode down unto the plain,

The queen and all [her] gay marries,

To see young Johnie slain.

26When the champian came out of the bower,He looked at Johnie with disdain;But upon the tope of Johnie’s brodswordThis champian soon was slain.

When the champian came out of the bower,

He looked at Johnie with disdain;

But upon the tope of Johnie’s brodsword

This champian soon was slain.

27He fought on, and Johnie fought on,With swords of tempered steel,And ay the blood like dropes of rainCame trinkling down thier hiel.

He fought on, and Johnie fought on,

With swords of tempered steel,

And ay the blood like dropes of rain

Came trinkling down thier hiel.

28The very nixt stroke that Johnie gave,He brought him till his knee;The nixt stroke that Johnie gave,He clove his head in twa.

The very nixt stroke that Johnie gave,

He brought him till his knee;

The nixt stroke that Johnie gave,

He clove his head in twa.

29He swapt his sword on every side,And turned him on the plain:‘Have you any more of your English dogsThat wants for to be slain?’

He swapt his sword on every side,

And turned him on the plain:

‘Have you any more of your English dogs

That wants for to be slain?’

30‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king he crys,‘I’ll seal her taucher free;’‘A priest, a priest!’ the queen she crys,‘For weded they shall be.’

‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king he crys,

‘I’ll seal her taucher free;’

‘A priest, a priest!’ the queen she crys,

‘For weded they shall be.’

31‘I’ll have none of your [gold],’ say[s] he,‘Nor any of your white money;But I will have my ain true-love;This day she has cost me dear.’

‘I’ll have none of your [gold],’ say[s] he,

‘Nor any of your white money;

But I will have my ain true-love;

This day she has cost me dear.’

274. hill.

294. two.

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 37, Abbotsford, MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 11; from Miss Nancy Brockie, Bemerside. Another copy, “Scotch Ballads,” etc., No 139, in the handwriting of T. Wilkie, and somewhat retouched by him.

1Lord Jonnie’s up to England goneThree quarters of an year;Lord Jonnie’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 Jonnie Scott.3Word is to the kitchen gone,And word’s gone to the hall,And word’s gone to the high, high room,Among the nobles all.4Word’s gone to the king himsel,In the chamber where he sat,That his eldest daughter goes with childTo Lord Jonnie Scott.5‘If 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 boy,That has baith hose and shoon,That will run into fair Scotland,And tell my love to come?’7‘O here is a shirt, little boy,Her own hand sewed the sleeve;Tell her to come to good greenwood,Not ask her father’s leave.’8‘What news, what news, my little boy?What news have ye brought to me?’‘No news, no news, my master dear,But what I will tell thee.9‘O here is a shirt, madam,Your awn hand sewed the sleeve;You must gang to good greenwood,Not ask your parents’ leave.’10‘My doors they are all shut, little boy,My windows round about;My feet is in the fetters strong,And I cannot get out.11‘My garters are of the black, black iron,And O but they are cold!My breast-plate’s o the strong, strong steel,Instead of beaten gold.12‘But tell him for to bide away,And not come near to me,For there’s a champion in my father’s haWill fight him till he dee.’13‘What news, what news, my little boy?What news have ye to me?’‘No news, no news, my master dear,But what I will tell thee.14‘Her doors they are all shut, kind sir,Her windows round about;Her feet are in the fetters strong,And she cannot get out.15‘Her garters are of the black, black iron,And O but they are cold!Her breast-plate’s of the strong, strong steel,Instead of beaten gold.16‘She bids you for to bide away,And not go near to see,For there’s a champion in her father’s houseWill fight you till you die.’17Then up and spoke Lord Jonnie’s mother,But she spoke out of time;‘O if you go to fair EnglandI fear you will be slain.’18But up and spoke a little boy,Just at Lord Jonnie’s knee,‘Before you lose your ain true-love,We’ll a’ fight till we die.’19The first church-town that they came to,They made the bells be rung;The next church-town that they came to,The[y] gard the mass be sung.20The next church-town that they came to,They made the drums go through;The king and all his nobles stoodAmazing for to view.21‘Is this any English gentleman,Or James our Scottish king?Or is it a Scottish gentleman,To England new come in?’22‘No, ‘t is no English gentleman,Nor James the Scottish king;But it is a Scottish gentleman,Lord Jonnie is my name.’23‘If Lord Jonnie be your name,As I suppose it be,I have a champion in my hallWill fight you till you die.’24‘O go fetch out that gurrley fellow,Go fetch him out to me;Before I lose my ain true-love,We’ll all fight till we die.’25Then out and came that gurrly fellow,A gurrly fellow was he,With twa lang sclasps between his eyes,His shoulders there were three.26The king and all his nobles stoodTo see the battle gained;The queen and all her maries stoodTo see Lord Jonnie slain.27The first stroke that Lord Jonnie gave,He wounded very sore;The next stroke that Lord Jonnie gave,The champion could fight no more.28He’s taen a whistle out from his side,He’s blawn a blast loud and shill:‘Is there any more of your English dogsTo come here and be killed?’29‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king did say,‘To cry her toucher free;’‘A priest, a priest!’ Lord Jonnie [did] cry‘To wed my love and me.30‘’Twas for none of your monnie I fought,Nor for none of your world’s gear;But it was for my own true-love;I think I’ve bought her dear.’

1Lord Jonnie’s up to England goneThree quarters of an year;Lord Jonnie’s up to England gone,The king’s banner to bear.

Lord Jonnie’s up to England gone

Three quarters of an year;

Lord Jonnie’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 Jonnie Scott.

He had not been in fair England,

Three quarters he was not,

Till the king’s eldest daughter

Goes with child to Lord Jonnie Scott.

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

Word is to the kitchen gone,

And word’s gone to the hall,

And word’s gone to the high, high room,

Among the nobles all.

4Word’s gone to the king himsel,In the chamber where he sat,That his eldest daughter goes with childTo Lord Jonnie Scott.

Word’s gone to the king himsel,

In the chamber where he sat,

That his eldest daughter goes with child

To Lord Jonnie Scott.

5‘If 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.’

‘If 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 boy,That has baith hose and shoon,That will run into fair Scotland,And tell my love to come?’

‘O where will I get a little boy,

That has baith hose and shoon,

That will run into fair Scotland,

And tell my love to come?’

7‘O here is a shirt, little boy,Her own hand sewed the sleeve;Tell her to come to good greenwood,Not ask her father’s leave.’

‘O here is a shirt, little boy,

Her own hand sewed the sleeve;

Tell her to come to good greenwood,

Not ask her father’s leave.’

8‘What news, what news, my little boy?What news have ye brought to me?’‘No news, no news, my master dear,But what I will tell thee.

‘What news, what news, my little boy?

What news have ye brought to me?’

‘No news, no news, my master dear,

But what I will tell thee.

9‘O here is a shirt, madam,Your awn hand sewed the sleeve;You must gang to good greenwood,Not ask your parents’ leave.’

‘O here is a shirt, madam,

Your awn hand sewed the sleeve;

You must gang to good greenwood,

Not ask your parents’ leave.’

10‘My doors they are all shut, little boy,My windows round about;My feet is in the fetters strong,And I cannot get out.

‘My doors they are all shut, little boy,

My windows round about;

My feet is in the fetters strong,

And I cannot get out.

11‘My garters are of the black, black iron,And O but they are cold!My breast-plate’s o the strong, strong steel,Instead of beaten gold.

‘My garters are of the black, black iron,

And O but they are cold!

My breast-plate’s o the strong, strong steel,

Instead of beaten gold.

12‘But tell him for to bide away,And not come near to me,For there’s a champion in my father’s haWill fight him till he dee.’

‘But tell him for to bide away,

And not come near to me,

For there’s a champion in my father’s ha

Will fight him till he dee.’

13‘What news, what news, my little boy?What news have ye to me?’‘No news, no news, my master dear,But what I will tell thee.

‘What news, what news, my little boy?

What news have ye to me?’

‘No news, no news, my master dear,

But what I will tell thee.

14‘Her doors they are all shut, kind sir,Her windows round about;Her feet are in the fetters strong,And she cannot get out.

‘Her doors they are all shut, kind sir,

Her windows round about;

Her feet are in the fetters strong,

And she cannot get out.

15‘Her garters are of the black, black iron,And O but they are cold!Her breast-plate’s of the strong, strong steel,Instead of beaten gold.

‘Her garters are of the black, black iron,

And O but they are cold!

Her breast-plate’s of the strong, strong steel,

Instead of beaten gold.

16‘She bids you for to bide away,And not go near to see,For there’s a champion in her father’s houseWill fight you till you die.’

‘She bids you for to bide away,

And not go near to see,

For there’s a champion in her father’s house

Will fight you till you die.’

17Then up and spoke Lord Jonnie’s mother,But she spoke out of time;‘O if you go to fair EnglandI fear you will be slain.’

Then up and spoke Lord Jonnie’s mother,

But she spoke out of time;

‘O if you go to fair England

I fear you will be slain.’

18But up and spoke a little boy,Just at Lord Jonnie’s knee,‘Before you lose your ain true-love,We’ll a’ fight till we die.’

But up and spoke a little boy,

Just at Lord Jonnie’s knee,

‘Before you lose your ain true-love,

We’ll a’ fight till we die.’

19The first church-town that they came to,They made the bells be rung;The next church-town that they came to,The[y] gard the mass be sung.

The first church-town that they came to,

They made the bells be rung;

The next church-town that they came to,

The[y] gard the mass be sung.

20The next church-town that they came to,They made the drums go through;The king and all his nobles stoodAmazing for to view.

The next church-town that they came to,

They made the drums go through;

The king and all his nobles stood

Amazing for to view.

21‘Is this any English gentleman,Or James our Scottish king?Or is it a Scottish gentleman,To England new come in?’

‘Is this any English gentleman,

Or James our Scottish king?

Or is it a Scottish gentleman,

To England new come in?’

22‘No, ‘t is no English gentleman,Nor James the Scottish king;But it is a Scottish gentleman,Lord Jonnie is my name.’

‘No, ‘t is no English gentleman,

Nor James the Scottish king;

But it is a Scottish gentleman,

Lord Jonnie is my name.’

23‘If Lord Jonnie be your name,As I suppose it be,I have a champion in my hallWill fight you till you die.’

‘If Lord Jonnie be your name,

As I suppose it be,

I have a champion in my hall

Will fight you till you die.’

24‘O go fetch out that gurrley fellow,Go fetch him out to me;Before I lose my ain true-love,We’ll all fight till we die.’

‘O go fetch out that gurrley fellow,

Go fetch him out to me;

Before I lose my ain true-love,

We’ll all fight till we die.’

25Then out and came that gurrly fellow,A gurrly fellow was he,With twa lang sclasps between his eyes,His shoulders there were three.

Then out and came that gurrly fellow,

A gurrly fellow was he,

With twa lang sclasps between his eyes,

His shoulders there were three.

26The king and all his nobles stoodTo see the battle gained;The queen and all her maries stoodTo see Lord Jonnie slain.

The king and all his nobles stood

To see the battle gained;

The queen and all her maries stood

To see Lord Jonnie slain.

27The first stroke that Lord Jonnie gave,He wounded very sore;The next stroke that Lord Jonnie gave,The champion could fight no more.

The first stroke that Lord Jonnie gave,

He wounded very sore;

The next stroke that Lord Jonnie gave,

The champion could fight no more.

28He’s taen a whistle out from his side,He’s blawn a blast loud and shill:‘Is there any more of your English dogsTo come here and be killed?’

He’s taen a whistle out from his side,

He’s blawn a blast loud and shill:

‘Is there any more of your English dogs

To come here and be killed?’

29‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king did say,‘To cry her toucher free;’‘A priest, a priest!’ Lord Jonnie [did] cry‘To wed my love and me.

‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king did say,

‘To cry her toucher free;’

‘A priest, a priest!’ Lord Jonnie [did] cry

‘To wed my love and me.

30‘’Twas for none of your monnie I fought,Nor for none of your world’s gear;But it was for my own true-love;I think I’ve bought her dear.’

‘’Twas for none of your monnie I fought,

Nor for none of your world’s gear;

But it was for my own true-love;

I think I’ve bought her dear.’

“This song (L. Jonnie) I took down from the same girl who sung Hughie Graeme.”

52. supose.

83. no newsthrice:masterwrongly, in anticipation of 133.

In No 139.

43,4. That the king’s eldest daughter Goes with child to.

71. There is a shift, little boy.

74. parents leave.

82. ye to.

161. But she.

163. father’s hall.

192. They gard.

194. They made.

222. James our.

231. name, kind sir.

251. out soon.

282. blown it baith loud.

291. did cry.

292. tocher fee.

293. Jonnie cri’s.

301. our.

302. Nor none.

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 140, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg, who remarks at the end: “The repeater of the above song called the hero once or twice Johny Scott, which I ommitted in the MS., seeing it contradicted in the 22 verse. I thought it best to apprise you of this, in case you might find any tract of its being founded on fact, because, if it is not, it hath little else to reccomend it.”

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