FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[520]bigg’d = built.[521]hollin = holly.[522]bree = brow.[523]courtrie = courtiers.[524]rede = advise.[525]frith = wood.[526]whidderand = whizzing.[527]Soudron = Southron, English.[528]rad = afraid.[529]graith = harness.[530]siccan = such.[531]Forfaulted = forfeited.

[520]bigg’d = built.

[521]hollin = holly.

[522]bree = brow.

[523]courtrie = courtiers.

[524]rede = advise.

[525]frith = wood.

[526]whidderand = whizzing.

[527]Soudron = Southron, English.

[528]rad = afraid.

[529]graith = harness.

[530]siccan = such.

[531]Forfaulted = forfeited.

IFour-and-twenty nobles rade to the King’s ha’,But bonny Glenlogie was the flow’r o’ them a’.IILady Jeanie Melville cam’ trippin’ down the stair;When she saw Glenlogie her hairt it grew sair.IIIShe call’d to the footman that ran by his side:Says, ‘What is your lord’s name, an’ where does he bide?’—IV‘His name is Glenlogie when he is from home:He’s of the gay Gordons, his name it is John.’—V‘Glenlogie, Glenlogie, an you will prove kind,My love is laid on you; I am tellin’ my mind.’—VIHe turn’d about lightly, as the Gordons do a’;Says, ‘I thank you, Lady Jeanie, but I’m promised awa’.’VIIShe call’d on her maidens her bed for to make,Her rings from her fingers she did them a’ break.VIII‘Where will I get a bonny boy, to win hose and shoon,To go to Glenlogie and bid Logie come?’IXWhen Glenlogie got the letter, amang noblemen,‘I wonder,’ said Glenlogie, ‘what does young women mean?X‘I wonder i’ the warld what women see at me,That bonny Jeanie Melville for my sake shou’d dee?XI‘O what is my lineage, or what is my make,That bonny Jeanie Melville shou’d dee for my sake?XII‘Go saddle my black horse, go saddle him soon,Till I ride to Bethelnie, to see Lady Jean!’XIIIWhen he came to Bethelnie, he rade round about,And he saw Jeanie’s father at the window look out.XIVWhen he came to the gateway, small mirth was there;But was weepin’ and wailin’, a’ tearin’ their hair.XVO pale and wan look’d she when Glenlogie came ben,But red ruddy grew she whene’er he sat down.XVI‘Turn round Jeanie Melville, turn round to this side,And I’ll be the bridegroom, and you’ll be the bride!’XVIIO ’twas a merry weddin’, and the portion down told,Of bonny Jeanie Melville, scarce sixteen years old!

Four-and-twenty nobles rade to the King’s ha’,But bonny Glenlogie was the flow’r o’ them a’.

Lady Jeanie Melville cam’ trippin’ down the stair;When she saw Glenlogie her hairt it grew sair.

She call’d to the footman that ran by his side:Says, ‘What is your lord’s name, an’ where does he bide?’—

‘His name is Glenlogie when he is from home:He’s of the gay Gordons, his name it is John.’—

‘Glenlogie, Glenlogie, an you will prove kind,My love is laid on you; I am tellin’ my mind.’—

He turn’d about lightly, as the Gordons do a’;Says, ‘I thank you, Lady Jeanie, but I’m promised awa’.’

She call’d on her maidens her bed for to make,Her rings from her fingers she did them a’ break.

‘Where will I get a bonny boy, to win hose and shoon,To go to Glenlogie and bid Logie come?’

When Glenlogie got the letter, amang noblemen,‘I wonder,’ said Glenlogie, ‘what does young women mean?

‘I wonder i’ the warld what women see at me,That bonny Jeanie Melville for my sake shou’d dee?

‘O what is my lineage, or what is my make,That bonny Jeanie Melville shou’d dee for my sake?

‘Go saddle my black horse, go saddle him soon,Till I ride to Bethelnie, to see Lady Jean!’

When he came to Bethelnie, he rade round about,And he saw Jeanie’s father at the window look out.

When he came to the gateway, small mirth was there;But was weepin’ and wailin’, a’ tearin’ their hair.

O pale and wan look’d she when Glenlogie came ben,But red ruddy grew she whene’er he sat down.

‘Turn round Jeanie Melville, turn round to this side,And I’ll be the bridegroom, and you’ll be the bride!’

O ’twas a merry weddin’, and the portion down told,Of bonny Jeanie Melville, scarce sixteen years old!

I‘O brent’s[532]your brow, my Lady Elspat;O gowden yellow is your hair!Of a’ the maids o’ fair ScotlandThere’s nane like Lady Elspat fair.’II‘Perform your vows,’ she says, ‘Sweet William;The vows which ye ha’ made to me;And at the back o’ my mither’s castleThis night I’ll surely meet wi’ thee.’IIIBut wae be to her brother’s page,Wha heard the words this twa did say!He’s tauld them to her lady mither,Wha wrought Sweet William mickle wae.IVFor she’s ta’en him, Sweet William,And she’s gar’d bind him wi’s bow-string.Till the red blood o’ his fair bodyFrae ilka nail o’ his hand did spring.VO it fell ance upon a timeThat the Lord Justice came to town;Out she has ta’en him, Sweet William,Brought him before the Lord Justice boun’.VI‘And what is the crime now, madame,’ he says,‘Has been committed by this young man?’—‘O he has broken my bonny castle,That was well biggit[533]wi’ lime and stane.VII‘And he has broken my bonny coffers,That was well bandit[534]wi’ aiken[535]ban’;And he has stolen my rich jewels;I wot he has them every ane.’VIIIThen out it spak’ her Lady ElspatAs she sat by the Lord Justice’ knee:‘Now ye hae tauld your tale, mither,I pray, Lord Justice, you’ll now hear me.IX‘He hasna broken her bonny castle,That was well biggit wi’ lime and stane;Nor has he stolen her rich jewels,For I wot she has them every one.X‘But tho’ he was my first true love,And tho’ I had sworn to be his bride,’Cause he had not a great estateShe would this way our loves divide.’XIThen out it spak’ the Lord Justice(I wot the tear was in his e’e):‘I see nae fault in this young man;Sae loose his bands, and set him free.XII‘Tak’ back your love now, Lady Elspat,And my best blessing you baith upon!For gin he be your first true love,He is my eldest sister’s son.XIII‘There is a steed within my stableCost me baith gowd and white monèy;Ye’se get as mickle o’ my free landAs he’ll ride about in a summer’s day.’

‘O brent’s[532]your brow, my Lady Elspat;O gowden yellow is your hair!Of a’ the maids o’ fair ScotlandThere’s nane like Lady Elspat fair.’

‘Perform your vows,’ she says, ‘Sweet William;The vows which ye ha’ made to me;And at the back o’ my mither’s castleThis night I’ll surely meet wi’ thee.’

But wae be to her brother’s page,Wha heard the words this twa did say!He’s tauld them to her lady mither,Wha wrought Sweet William mickle wae.

For she’s ta’en him, Sweet William,And she’s gar’d bind him wi’s bow-string.Till the red blood o’ his fair bodyFrae ilka nail o’ his hand did spring.

O it fell ance upon a timeThat the Lord Justice came to town;Out she has ta’en him, Sweet William,Brought him before the Lord Justice boun’.

‘And what is the crime now, madame,’ he says,‘Has been committed by this young man?’—‘O he has broken my bonny castle,That was well biggit[533]wi’ lime and stane.

‘And he has broken my bonny coffers,That was well bandit[534]wi’ aiken[535]ban’;And he has stolen my rich jewels;I wot he has them every ane.’

Then out it spak’ her Lady ElspatAs she sat by the Lord Justice’ knee:‘Now ye hae tauld your tale, mither,I pray, Lord Justice, you’ll now hear me.

‘He hasna broken her bonny castle,That was well biggit wi’ lime and stane;Nor has he stolen her rich jewels,For I wot she has them every one.

‘But tho’ he was my first true love,And tho’ I had sworn to be his bride,’Cause he had not a great estateShe would this way our loves divide.’

Then out it spak’ the Lord Justice(I wot the tear was in his e’e):‘I see nae fault in this young man;Sae loose his bands, and set him free.

‘Tak’ back your love now, Lady Elspat,And my best blessing you baith upon!For gin he be your first true love,He is my eldest sister’s son.

‘There is a steed within my stableCost me baith gowd and white monèy;Ye’se get as mickle o’ my free landAs he’ll ride about in a summer’s day.’

FOOTNOTES:[532]brent = straight, smooth.[533]biggit = built.[534]bandit = bound.[535]aiken = oaken.

[532]brent = straight, smooth.

[533]biggit = built.

[534]bandit = bound.

[535]aiken = oaken.

II was a lady of high renownAs ever lived in the north countrie;I was a lady of high renownWhen the Earl Douglas luvèd me.IIAnd when we came through Glasgow toun,We were a comely sight to see;My gude lord in the black velvèt,And I mysel’ in cramasie[536].IIIBut when we came to Douglas toun,We were a fine sight to behold:My gude lord in the cramasieAnd I mysel’ in the shining gold.IVAnd when that my auld[537]son was bornAnd set upon his nurse’s knee,I was happy a woman as e’er was born,And my gude lord he luvèd me.VBut O an my young son was bornAnd set upon his nurse’s kneeAnd I mysel’ were dead and gane,For a maid again I’ll never be!VIThere cam’ a man into this house,And Jamie Lockhart was his name,And it was told to my gude lordThat I was owre in love wi’ him.VIIO wae be unto thee, Blackwòod,And ae an ill death may ye dee!For ye was the first and foremost manThat parted my gude lord and me.VIIII sent a word to my gude lord,‘Come down, and sit, and dine wi’ me,And I’ll set thee on a chair of gowd,And a siller towel on thy knee.’—IX‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells,And mussell grow on every tree,When frost and snow turns fire to burn,Then I’ll sit down and dine wi’ thee.’XWhen that my father he had wordThat my gude lord had forsaken me,He sent a fifty brisk dragoonsTo fetch me home to my ain countrie.XI‘Fare thee well, my Jamie Douglas!Fare thee well, ever dear to me!But O, an my young babe were bornAnd set upon some nourice’ knee!XII‘And fare thee well, my pretty palace!And fare ye well, my children three!God grant your father grace to be kind,More kind to you than he was to me!’XIIIThen slowly, slowly rase I up,But quickly, quickly he cam’ doun,And when he saw me sit in my coach,He made his drums and trumpets sound.XIVWhen we cam’ in by Edinbro’ town,My father and mother they met meWi’ trumpets soundin’ on every side;But it was nae music at a’ to me.XV‘Now hau’d your comfort my father dear,And mother your weeping let abee!I’ll never lye in another man’s armsSince my dear lord has forsaken me.’XVIIt’s very true, and it’s aft-times said,The hawk will flie far far frae her nest:And a’ the warld may plainly seeThey are far frae me that I luve best.Lament of Barbara, Marchioness of DouglasXVIIO waly, waly, up the bank,And waly, waly, doun the brae,And waly, waly, yon burn-side,Where I and my Love wont to gae!XVIIII lean’d my back unto an aik,I thocht it was a trustie tree;But first it bow’d and syne it brak—Sae my true love did lichtlie[538]me.XIXO waly, waly, gin love be bonnieA little time while it is new!But when ’tis auld it waxeth cauld,And fades awa’ like morning dew.XXO wherefore should I busk my heid,Or wherefore should I kame my hair?For my true Love has me forsook,And says he’ll never lo’e me mair.XXINow Arthur’s Seat sall be my bed,The sheets sall ne’er be ’filed by me;Saint Anton’s well sall be my drink;Since my true Love has forsaken me.XXIIMarti’mas wind, when wilt thou blaw,And shake the green leaves aff the tree?O gentle Death, when wilt thou come?For of my life I am wearìe.XXIII’Tis not the frost, that freezes fell,Nor blawing snaw’s inclemencie,’Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry;But my Love’s heart grown cauld to me.XXIVWhen we cam’ in by Glasgow toun,We were a comely sicht to see;My Love was clad in the black velvèt,And I mysel’ in cramasie.XXVBut had I wist, before I kist,That love had been sae ill to win,I had lock’d my heart in a case o’ gowd,And pinn’d it wi’ a siller pin.XXVIAnd O! if my young babe were born,And set upon the nurse’s knee;And I mysel’ were dead and gane,And the green grass growing over me!

I was a lady of high renownAs ever lived in the north countrie;I was a lady of high renownWhen the Earl Douglas luvèd me.

And when we came through Glasgow toun,We were a comely sight to see;My gude lord in the black velvèt,And I mysel’ in cramasie[536].

But when we came to Douglas toun,We were a fine sight to behold:My gude lord in the cramasieAnd I mysel’ in the shining gold.

And when that my auld[537]son was bornAnd set upon his nurse’s knee,I was happy a woman as e’er was born,And my gude lord he luvèd me.

But O an my young son was bornAnd set upon his nurse’s kneeAnd I mysel’ were dead and gane,For a maid again I’ll never be!

There cam’ a man into this house,And Jamie Lockhart was his name,And it was told to my gude lordThat I was owre in love wi’ him.

O wae be unto thee, Blackwòod,And ae an ill death may ye dee!For ye was the first and foremost manThat parted my gude lord and me.

I sent a word to my gude lord,‘Come down, and sit, and dine wi’ me,And I’ll set thee on a chair of gowd,And a siller towel on thy knee.’—

‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells,And mussell grow on every tree,When frost and snow turns fire to burn,Then I’ll sit down and dine wi’ thee.’

When that my father he had wordThat my gude lord had forsaken me,He sent a fifty brisk dragoonsTo fetch me home to my ain countrie.

‘Fare thee well, my Jamie Douglas!Fare thee well, ever dear to me!But O, an my young babe were bornAnd set upon some nourice’ knee!

‘And fare thee well, my pretty palace!And fare ye well, my children three!God grant your father grace to be kind,More kind to you than he was to me!’

Then slowly, slowly rase I up,But quickly, quickly he cam’ doun,And when he saw me sit in my coach,He made his drums and trumpets sound.

When we cam’ in by Edinbro’ town,My father and mother they met meWi’ trumpets soundin’ on every side;But it was nae music at a’ to me.

‘Now hau’d your comfort my father dear,And mother your weeping let abee!I’ll never lye in another man’s armsSince my dear lord has forsaken me.’

It’s very true, and it’s aft-times said,The hawk will flie far far frae her nest:And a’ the warld may plainly seeThey are far frae me that I luve best.

O waly, waly, up the bank,And waly, waly, doun the brae,And waly, waly, yon burn-side,Where I and my Love wont to gae!

I lean’d my back unto an aik,I thocht it was a trustie tree;But first it bow’d and syne it brak—Sae my true love did lichtlie[538]me.

O waly, waly, gin love be bonnieA little time while it is new!But when ’tis auld it waxeth cauld,And fades awa’ like morning dew.

O wherefore should I busk my heid,Or wherefore should I kame my hair?For my true Love has me forsook,And says he’ll never lo’e me mair.

Now Arthur’s Seat sall be my bed,The sheets sall ne’er be ’filed by me;Saint Anton’s well sall be my drink;Since my true Love has forsaken me.

Marti’mas wind, when wilt thou blaw,And shake the green leaves aff the tree?O gentle Death, when wilt thou come?For of my life I am wearìe.

’Tis not the frost, that freezes fell,Nor blawing snaw’s inclemencie,’Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry;But my Love’s heart grown cauld to me.

When we cam’ in by Glasgow toun,We were a comely sicht to see;My Love was clad in the black velvèt,And I mysel’ in cramasie.

But had I wist, before I kist,That love had been sae ill to win,I had lock’d my heart in a case o’ gowd,And pinn’d it wi’ a siller pin.

And O! if my young babe were born,And set upon the nurse’s knee;And I mysel’ were dead and gane,And the green grass growing over me!

FOOTNOTES:[536]cramasie = crimson.[537]auld = eldest.[538]lichtlie = slight, treat with disrespect.

[536]cramasie = crimson.

[537]auld = eldest.

[538]lichtlie = slight, treat with disrespect.

IThere was a may, and a weel-far’d[539]may,Lived high up in yon glen;Her name was Katharine JohnstoneShe was courted by mony men.IIDoun cam’ the Laird o’ LamingtonOut frae the North Countrie,All for to court this pretty may,Her bridegroom for to be.IIIHe tell’d na her father, he tell’d na her mither,He tell’d na ane o’ her kin,But he tell’d the bonnie lass hersel’An’ her consent did win.IVBut up then cam’ Lord FaughanwoodOut frae the English Border,And for to court this pretty may,A’ mounted in good order.VHe’s tell’d her father, he’s tell’d her mither,And a’ the lave[540]o’ her kin;But he’s tell’d na the bonny lass hersel’Till on her weddin’-e’en.VIShe’s sent unto her first fere[541]love,Gin he would come to see,And Lamington has sent back wordWeel answer’d should she be.VIIThen he has sent a messengerRight quietly thro’ the land,For four-and-twenty armèd menTo ride at his command.VIIIThe bridegroom from a high windowBeheld baith dale and down,And there he spied her first fere loveCam’ riding to the toun.IXShe scoffèd and she scornèd himUpon her weddin’-day,And said it was the Fairy CourtHe saw in sic array!XWhen a’ were at the dinner set,Drinking the blude-red wine,In cam’ the Laird o’ LamingtonThe bridegroom ’should hae been.XI‘O come ye here to fight, young lord?Or come ye here to play?Or come ye here to drink good wineUpon the weddin’-day?’—XII‘I come na here to fight,’ he said‘I come na here to play;I’ll but lead a dance wi’ the bonny bride,And mount and go my way.’XIIIThere was a glass of the blude-red wineWas fill’d them up between,But aye she drank to Lamington,Wha her true love had been.XIVHe’s ta’en her by the milk-white hand,And by the grass-green sleeve;He’s mounted her high behind himsel’,At her kin he’s spier’d[542]nae leave.XVThere were four-and-twenty bonny boysA’ clad in the Johnstone grey,They swore they would tak’ the bride againBy the strong hand, if they may.XVIIt’s up, it’s up the Cowden bank,It’s down the Cowden brae;The bride she gar’d the trumpet sound‘It is a weel-won play!’XVIIThe blude ran down by Cowden bankAnd down by Cowden brae,But aye she gar’d the trumpet sound‘It’s a’ fair play!’XVIII‘My blessing on your heart, sweet thing!Wae to your wilfu’ will!Sae mony a gallant gentleman’s bloodThis day as ye’ve gar’d spill.’XIXBut a’ you lords of fair England,If you be English born,Come never to Scotland to seek a wifeOr else ye’ll get the scorn.XXThey’ll haik ye up[543], and settle ye by[544],Until your weddin’-day;Then gie ye frogs instead o’ fish,And do ye foul, foul play.

There was a may, and a weel-far’d[539]may,Lived high up in yon glen;Her name was Katharine JohnstoneShe was courted by mony men.

Doun cam’ the Laird o’ LamingtonOut frae the North Countrie,All for to court this pretty may,Her bridegroom for to be.

He tell’d na her father, he tell’d na her mither,He tell’d na ane o’ her kin,But he tell’d the bonnie lass hersel’An’ her consent did win.

But up then cam’ Lord FaughanwoodOut frae the English Border,And for to court this pretty may,A’ mounted in good order.

He’s tell’d her father, he’s tell’d her mither,And a’ the lave[540]o’ her kin;But he’s tell’d na the bonny lass hersel’Till on her weddin’-e’en.

She’s sent unto her first fere[541]love,Gin he would come to see,And Lamington has sent back wordWeel answer’d should she be.

Then he has sent a messengerRight quietly thro’ the land,For four-and-twenty armèd menTo ride at his command.

The bridegroom from a high windowBeheld baith dale and down,And there he spied her first fere loveCam’ riding to the toun.

She scoffèd and she scornèd himUpon her weddin’-day,And said it was the Fairy CourtHe saw in sic array!

When a’ were at the dinner set,Drinking the blude-red wine,In cam’ the Laird o’ LamingtonThe bridegroom ’should hae been.

‘O come ye here to fight, young lord?Or come ye here to play?Or come ye here to drink good wineUpon the weddin’-day?’—

‘I come na here to fight,’ he said‘I come na here to play;I’ll but lead a dance wi’ the bonny bride,And mount and go my way.’

There was a glass of the blude-red wineWas fill’d them up between,But aye she drank to Lamington,Wha her true love had been.

He’s ta’en her by the milk-white hand,And by the grass-green sleeve;He’s mounted her high behind himsel’,At her kin he’s spier’d[542]nae leave.

There were four-and-twenty bonny boysA’ clad in the Johnstone grey,They swore they would tak’ the bride againBy the strong hand, if they may.

It’s up, it’s up the Cowden bank,It’s down the Cowden brae;The bride she gar’d the trumpet sound‘It is a weel-won play!’

The blude ran down by Cowden bankAnd down by Cowden brae,But aye she gar’d the trumpet sound‘It’s a’ fair play!’

‘My blessing on your heart, sweet thing!Wae to your wilfu’ will!Sae mony a gallant gentleman’s bloodThis day as ye’ve gar’d spill.’

But a’ you lords of fair England,If you be English born,Come never to Scotland to seek a wifeOr else ye’ll get the scorn.

They’ll haik ye up[543], and settle ye by[544],Until your weddin’-day;Then gie ye frogs instead o’ fish,And do ye foul, foul play.

FOOTNOTES:[539]weel-far’d = well-favoured.[540]lave = rest.[541]fere = mate.[542]spier’d = asked.[543]haik ye up = hold you in suspense.[544]settle ye by = keep you waiting aside.

[539]weel-far’d = well-favoured.

[540]lave = rest.

[541]fere = mate.

[542]spier’d = asked.

[543]haik ye up = hold you in suspense.

[544]settle ye by = keep you waiting aside.

ISum speiks of lords, sum speiks of lairds,And sick lyke men of hie degrie;Of a gentleman I sing a sang,Sum tyme called Laird of Gilnockie.IIThe King he wrytes a luving letter,With his ain hand sae tenderly,And he hath sent it to Johnie Armstrang,To cum and speik with him speedily.IIIThe Eliots and Armstrangs did convene;They were a gallant cumpanie—‘We’ll ride and meit our lawful King,And bring him safe to Gilnockie.’IV‘Make kinnen[545]and capon ready, then,And venison in great plentie;We’ll wellcum here our royal King;I hope he’ll dine at Gilnockie!’—VThey ran their horse on the Langholme howm,And brak their spears wi’ mickle main;The ladies lukit frae their loft windows—‘God bring our men weel hame agen!’VIWhen Johnie cam’ before the King,Wi’ a’ his men sae brave to see,The King he movit his bonnet to him;He ween’d he was King as weel as he.VII‘May I find grace, my sovereign liege,Grace for my loyal men and me?For my name it is Johnie Armstrang,And a subject of yours, my liege,’ said he.VIII‘Away, away, thou traitor strang!Out o’ my sight soon mayst thou be!I grantit never a traitor’s life,And now I’ll not begin wi’ thee.’—IX‘Grant me my life, my liege, my King!And a bonny gift I’ll gie to thee:Full four-and-twenty milk-white steids,Were a’ foal’d in ae yeir to me.X‘I’ll gie thee a’ these milk-white steids,That prance and nicker[546]at a speir;And as mickle gude Inglish gilt[547],As four o’ their braid backs dow[548]bear.’—XI‘Away, away, thou traitor strang!Out o’ my sight soon mayst thou be!I grantit never a traitor’s life,And now I’ll not begin wi’ thee!’—XII‘Grant me my life, my liege, my King!And a bonny gift I’ll gie to thee:Gude four-and-twenty ganging[549]mills,That gang thro’ a’ the yeir to me.XIII‘These four-and-twenty mills completeSall gang for thee thro’ a’ the yeir;And as mickle of gude reid wheit,As a’ thair happers[550]dow to bear.’—XIV‘Away, away, thou traitor strang!Out o’ my sight soon mayst thou be!I grantit never a traitor’s life,And now I’ll not begin wi’ thee.’—XV‘Grant me my life, my liege, my King!And a great great gift I’ll gie to thee:Bauld four-and-twenty sisters’ sons,Sall for thee fetch, tho’ a’ should flee!’—XVI‘Away, away, thou traitor strang!Out o’ my sight soon mayst thou be!I grantit never a traitor’s life,And now I’ll not begin wi’ thee.’—XVII‘Grant me my life, my liege, my King!And a brave gift I’ll gie to thee:All between heir and Newcastle townSall pay their yeirly rent to thee.’—XVIII‘Away, away, thou traitor strang!Out o’ my sight soon mayst thou be!I grantit never a traitor’s life,And now I’ll not begin wi’ thee.’—XIX‘Ye lied, ye lied, now, King,’ he says,‘Altho’ a King and Prince ye be!For I’ve luved naething in my life,I weel dare say it, but honesty:XX‘Save a fat horse, and a fair woman,Twa bonny dogs to kill a deir;But England suld have found me meal and mault,Gif I had lived this hundred yeir!XXI‘She suld have found me meal and mault,And beef and mutton in a’ plentie;But never a Scots wyfe could have saidThat e’er I skaith’d[551]her a puir flee.XXII‘To seik het water beneith cauld ice,Surely it is a greit folie—I have asked grace at a graceless face,But there is nane for my men and me!XXIII‘But had I kenn’d ere I cam’ frae hame,How thou unkind wadst been to me!I wad have keepit the Border side,In spite of all thy force and thee.XXIV‘Wist England’s King that I was ta’en,O gin a blythe man he wad be!For anes I slew his sister’s son,And on his breist bane brak a trie.’XXVJohn wore a girdle about his middle,Imbroider’d owre wi’ burning gold,Bespangled wi’ the same metal,Maist beautiful was to behold.XXVIThere hung nine targats[552]at Johnie’s hat,And ilk ane worth three hundred pound—‘What wants that knave that a King suld have,But the sword of honour and the crown?’XXVII‘O where got thou these targats, Johnie,That blink sae brawlie[553]abune thy brie[554]?’—‘I gat them in the field fechting,Where, cruel King, thou durst not be.XXVIII‘Had I my horse, and harness gude,And riding as I wont to be,It suld have been tauld this hundred yeir,The meeting of my King and me!XXIX‘God be with thee, Kirsty, my brother,Lang live thou Laird of Mangertoun!Lang mayst thou live on the Border syde,Ere thou see thy brother ride up and doun!XXX‘And God be with thee, Kirsty, my son,Where thou sits on thy nurse’s knee!But an thou live this hundred yeir,Thy father’s better thou’lt never be.XXXI‘Farewell! my bonny Gilnock hall,Where on Esk side thou standest stout!Gif I had lived but seven yeirs mair,I wad hae gilt thee round about.’XXXIIJohn murder’d was at Carlinrigg,And all his gallant companie;But Scotland’s heart was ne’er sae wae,To see sae mony brave men die—XXXIIIBecause they saved their country deirFrae Englishmen! Nane were sa bauld,Whyle Johnie lived on the Border syde,Nane of them durst cum neir his hauld.

Sum speiks of lords, sum speiks of lairds,And sick lyke men of hie degrie;Of a gentleman I sing a sang,Sum tyme called Laird of Gilnockie.

The King he wrytes a luving letter,With his ain hand sae tenderly,And he hath sent it to Johnie Armstrang,To cum and speik with him speedily.

The Eliots and Armstrangs did convene;They were a gallant cumpanie—‘We’ll ride and meit our lawful King,And bring him safe to Gilnockie.’

‘Make kinnen[545]and capon ready, then,And venison in great plentie;We’ll wellcum here our royal King;I hope he’ll dine at Gilnockie!’—

They ran their horse on the Langholme howm,And brak their spears wi’ mickle main;The ladies lukit frae their loft windows—‘God bring our men weel hame agen!’

When Johnie cam’ before the King,Wi’ a’ his men sae brave to see,The King he movit his bonnet to him;He ween’d he was King as weel as he.

‘May I find grace, my sovereign liege,Grace for my loyal men and me?For my name it is Johnie Armstrang,And a subject of yours, my liege,’ said he.

‘Away, away, thou traitor strang!Out o’ my sight soon mayst thou be!I grantit never a traitor’s life,And now I’ll not begin wi’ thee.’—

‘Grant me my life, my liege, my King!And a bonny gift I’ll gie to thee:Full four-and-twenty milk-white steids,Were a’ foal’d in ae yeir to me.

‘I’ll gie thee a’ these milk-white steids,That prance and nicker[546]at a speir;And as mickle gude Inglish gilt[547],As four o’ their braid backs dow[548]bear.’—

‘Away, away, thou traitor strang!Out o’ my sight soon mayst thou be!I grantit never a traitor’s life,And now I’ll not begin wi’ thee!’—

‘Grant me my life, my liege, my King!And a bonny gift I’ll gie to thee:Gude four-and-twenty ganging[549]mills,That gang thro’ a’ the yeir to me.

‘These four-and-twenty mills completeSall gang for thee thro’ a’ the yeir;And as mickle of gude reid wheit,As a’ thair happers[550]dow to bear.’—

‘Away, away, thou traitor strang!Out o’ my sight soon mayst thou be!I grantit never a traitor’s life,And now I’ll not begin wi’ thee.’—

‘Grant me my life, my liege, my King!And a great great gift I’ll gie to thee:Bauld four-and-twenty sisters’ sons,Sall for thee fetch, tho’ a’ should flee!’—

‘Away, away, thou traitor strang!Out o’ my sight soon mayst thou be!I grantit never a traitor’s life,And now I’ll not begin wi’ thee.’—

‘Grant me my life, my liege, my King!And a brave gift I’ll gie to thee:All between heir and Newcastle townSall pay their yeirly rent to thee.’—

‘Away, away, thou traitor strang!Out o’ my sight soon mayst thou be!I grantit never a traitor’s life,And now I’ll not begin wi’ thee.’—

‘Ye lied, ye lied, now, King,’ he says,‘Altho’ a King and Prince ye be!For I’ve luved naething in my life,I weel dare say it, but honesty:

‘Save a fat horse, and a fair woman,Twa bonny dogs to kill a deir;But England suld have found me meal and mault,Gif I had lived this hundred yeir!

‘She suld have found me meal and mault,And beef and mutton in a’ plentie;But never a Scots wyfe could have saidThat e’er I skaith’d[551]her a puir flee.

‘To seik het water beneith cauld ice,Surely it is a greit folie—I have asked grace at a graceless face,But there is nane for my men and me!

‘But had I kenn’d ere I cam’ frae hame,How thou unkind wadst been to me!I wad have keepit the Border side,In spite of all thy force and thee.

‘Wist England’s King that I was ta’en,O gin a blythe man he wad be!For anes I slew his sister’s son,And on his breist bane brak a trie.’

John wore a girdle about his middle,Imbroider’d owre wi’ burning gold,Bespangled wi’ the same metal,Maist beautiful was to behold.

There hung nine targats[552]at Johnie’s hat,And ilk ane worth three hundred pound—‘What wants that knave that a King suld have,But the sword of honour and the crown?’

‘O where got thou these targats, Johnie,That blink sae brawlie[553]abune thy brie[554]?’—‘I gat them in the field fechting,Where, cruel King, thou durst not be.

‘Had I my horse, and harness gude,And riding as I wont to be,It suld have been tauld this hundred yeir,The meeting of my King and me!

‘God be with thee, Kirsty, my brother,Lang live thou Laird of Mangertoun!Lang mayst thou live on the Border syde,Ere thou see thy brother ride up and doun!

‘And God be with thee, Kirsty, my son,Where thou sits on thy nurse’s knee!But an thou live this hundred yeir,Thy father’s better thou’lt never be.

‘Farewell! my bonny Gilnock hall,Where on Esk side thou standest stout!Gif I had lived but seven yeirs mair,I wad hae gilt thee round about.’

John murder’d was at Carlinrigg,And all his gallant companie;But Scotland’s heart was ne’er sae wae,To see sae mony brave men die—

Because they saved their country deirFrae Englishmen! Nane were sa bauld,Whyle Johnie lived on the Border syde,Nane of them durst cum neir his hauld.

FOOTNOTES:[545]kinnen = rabbits.[546]nicker = neigh.[547]gilt = gold.[548]dow = are able to.[549]ganging = going.[550]happers = mill-hoppers.[551]skaith’d = hurt, wronged.[552]targats = round ornaments.[553]blink sae brawlie = glance so bravely.[554]brie = brow.

[545]kinnen = rabbits.

[546]nicker = neigh.

[547]gilt = gold.

[548]dow = are able to.

[549]ganging = going.

[550]happers = mill-hoppers.

[551]skaith’d = hurt, wronged.

[552]targats = round ornaments.

[553]blink sae brawlie = glance so bravely.

[554]brie = brow.

IWillie stands in his stable door,And clapping at his steed,And over his white fingersHis nose began to bleed.II‘Gie corn unto my horse, mither,Gie meat unto my man;For I maun gang to Margaret’s bourBefore the nicht comes on.’—III‘O bide at hame this nicht, Willie,This ae bare nicht wi’ me:The bestan bed in a’ my houseSall be well made to thee.IV‘O bide at hame this nicht, Willie,This ae bare nicht wi’ me:The bestan bird in a’ the roostAt your supper, son, sall be.’—V‘A’ your beds and a’ your roostsI value not a pin;But I sall gae to my love’s gatesThis nicht, gif I can win.’—VI‘O stay at home, my son Willie,The wind blaws cauld an’ sour;The nicht will be baith mirk and lateBefore ye reach her bour.’—VII‘O though the nicht were ever sae dark,Or the wind blew never sae cauld,I will be in my Margaret’s bourBefore twa hours be tald.’—VIII‘O an ye gang to Margaret’s bourSae sair against my will,I’ the deepest pot o’ Clyde’s waterMy malison[555]ye’se feel.’IXAs he rade owre yon high high hill,And doun yon dowie[556]den,The roaring that was in Clyde’s waterWad fley’d[557]five hundred men.XHis heart was warm, his pride was up,Sweet Willie kentna fear;But yet his mither’s malisonAye soundit in his ear.XI‘O spare, O spare me, Clyde’s water:Your stream rins wondrous strang:Mak’ me your wrack as I come back,But spare me as I gang!’XIIThen he rade in, and further in,And he swam to an’ fro,Until he’s grippit a hazel bushThat brung him to the brow.XIIIThen he is on to Margaret’s bour,And tirlèd at the pin;But doors were steek’d and windows barr’d,And nane wad let him in.XIV‘O open the door to me, Marg’ret!O open and let me in!For my boots are fu’ o’ Clyde’s waterAnd the rain rins owre my chin.’—XV‘I darena open the door to you,Nor darena let you in;For my mither she is fast asleep,And I maun mak’ nae din.’—XVI‘O hae ye ne’er a stable?’ he says,‘Or hae ye ne’er a barn?Or hae ye ne’er a wild-goose houseWhere I might rest till morn?’—XVII‘My barn it is fu’ o’ corn,’ she says,‘My stable is fu’ o’ hay;My house is fu’ o’ merry young men;They winna remove till day.’—XVIII‘O fare ye weel then, May Marg’ret,Sin’ better may na be!I’ve gotten my mither’s malisonThis nicht, coming to thee.’XIXHe’s mounted on his coal-black steed,—O but his heart was wae!But ere he came to Clyde’s water’Twas half up owre the brae.XX‘An hey, Willie! an hoa, Willie!Winna ye turn agen?’But aye the louder that she criedHe rade agenst the win’.XXIAs he rade owre yon high high hill,And doun yon dowie den,The roaring that was in Clyde’s waterWad fley’d a thousand men.XXIIThen he rade in, and farther in,Till he cam’ to the chine;The rushing that was in Clyde’s waterTook Willie’s riding-cane.XXIIIHe lean’d him owre his saddle-bowTo catch the rod by force;The rushing that was in Clyde’s waterTook Willie frae his horse.XXIV‘O how can I turn my horse’s head?How can I learn to sowm[558]?I’ve gotten my mither’s malison,And it’s here that I maun drown!’XXVO he swam high, and he swam low,And he swam to and fro,But he couldna spy the hazel-bushWad bring him to the brow.XXVIHe’s sunk and he never rase agenInto the pot sae deep ...And up it waken’d May MargaretOut o’ her drowsie sleep.XXVII‘Come hither, come here, my mither dear,Read me this dreary dream;I dream’d my Willie was at our gates,And nane wad let him in.’—XXVIII‘Lie still, lie still now, my Meggie:Lie still and tak’ your rest;Sin’ your true-love was at your gatesIt’s but twa quarters past.’—XXIXNimbly, nimbly rase she up,And nimbly put she on;And the higher that the lady cried,The louder blew the win’.XXXThe firstan step that she stept in,She steppit to the queet[559]:‘Ohon, alas!’ said that lady,‘This water’s wondrous deep.’XXXIThe neistan step that she stept in,She waded to the knee;Says she, ‘I cou’d wade farther in,If I my love cou’d see.’XXXIIThe neistan step that she wade in,She waded to the chin;The deepest pot in Clyde’s waterShe got sweet Willie in.XXXIII‘Ye’ve had a cruel mither, Willie!And I have had anither;But we sall sleep in Clyde’s waterLike sister an’ like brither.’

Willie stands in his stable door,And clapping at his steed,And over his white fingersHis nose began to bleed.

‘Gie corn unto my horse, mither,Gie meat unto my man;For I maun gang to Margaret’s bourBefore the nicht comes on.’—

‘O bide at hame this nicht, Willie,This ae bare nicht wi’ me:The bestan bed in a’ my houseSall be well made to thee.

‘O bide at hame this nicht, Willie,This ae bare nicht wi’ me:The bestan bird in a’ the roostAt your supper, son, sall be.’—

‘A’ your beds and a’ your roostsI value not a pin;But I sall gae to my love’s gatesThis nicht, gif I can win.’—

‘O stay at home, my son Willie,The wind blaws cauld an’ sour;The nicht will be baith mirk and lateBefore ye reach her bour.’—

‘O though the nicht were ever sae dark,Or the wind blew never sae cauld,I will be in my Margaret’s bourBefore twa hours be tald.’—

‘O an ye gang to Margaret’s bourSae sair against my will,I’ the deepest pot o’ Clyde’s waterMy malison[555]ye’se feel.’

As he rade owre yon high high hill,And doun yon dowie[556]den,The roaring that was in Clyde’s waterWad fley’d[557]five hundred men.

His heart was warm, his pride was up,Sweet Willie kentna fear;But yet his mither’s malisonAye soundit in his ear.

‘O spare, O spare me, Clyde’s water:Your stream rins wondrous strang:Mak’ me your wrack as I come back,But spare me as I gang!’

Then he rade in, and further in,And he swam to an’ fro,Until he’s grippit a hazel bushThat brung him to the brow.

Then he is on to Margaret’s bour,And tirlèd at the pin;But doors were steek’d and windows barr’d,And nane wad let him in.

‘O open the door to me, Marg’ret!O open and let me in!For my boots are fu’ o’ Clyde’s waterAnd the rain rins owre my chin.’—

‘I darena open the door to you,Nor darena let you in;For my mither she is fast asleep,And I maun mak’ nae din.’—

‘O hae ye ne’er a stable?’ he says,‘Or hae ye ne’er a barn?Or hae ye ne’er a wild-goose houseWhere I might rest till morn?’—

‘My barn it is fu’ o’ corn,’ she says,‘My stable is fu’ o’ hay;My house is fu’ o’ merry young men;They winna remove till day.’—

‘O fare ye weel then, May Marg’ret,Sin’ better may na be!I’ve gotten my mither’s malisonThis nicht, coming to thee.’

He’s mounted on his coal-black steed,—O but his heart was wae!But ere he came to Clyde’s water’Twas half up owre the brae.

‘An hey, Willie! an hoa, Willie!Winna ye turn agen?’But aye the louder that she criedHe rade agenst the win’.

As he rade owre yon high high hill,And doun yon dowie den,The roaring that was in Clyde’s waterWad fley’d a thousand men.

Then he rade in, and farther in,Till he cam’ to the chine;The rushing that was in Clyde’s waterTook Willie’s riding-cane.

He lean’d him owre his saddle-bowTo catch the rod by force;The rushing that was in Clyde’s waterTook Willie frae his horse.

‘O how can I turn my horse’s head?How can I learn to sowm[558]?I’ve gotten my mither’s malison,And it’s here that I maun drown!’

O he swam high, and he swam low,And he swam to and fro,But he couldna spy the hazel-bushWad bring him to the brow.

He’s sunk and he never rase agenInto the pot sae deep ...And up it waken’d May MargaretOut o’ her drowsie sleep.

‘Come hither, come here, my mither dear,Read me this dreary dream;I dream’d my Willie was at our gates,And nane wad let him in.’—

‘Lie still, lie still now, my Meggie:Lie still and tak’ your rest;Sin’ your true-love was at your gatesIt’s but twa quarters past.’—

Nimbly, nimbly rase she up,And nimbly put she on;And the higher that the lady cried,The louder blew the win’.

The firstan step that she stept in,She steppit to the queet[559]:‘Ohon, alas!’ said that lady,‘This water’s wondrous deep.’

The neistan step that she stept in,She waded to the knee;Says she, ‘I cou’d wade farther in,If I my love cou’d see.’

The neistan step that she wade in,She waded to the chin;The deepest pot in Clyde’s waterShe got sweet Willie in.

‘Ye’ve had a cruel mither, Willie!And I have had anither;But we sall sleep in Clyde’s waterLike sister an’ like brither.’

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