Part 10

The main points in the traditional story are that John, sixth earl of Cassilis, married, for his first wife, Lady Jean Hamilton, whose affections were preëngaged to one Sir John Faa, of Dunbar. Several years after, when Lady Cassilis had become the mother of two children,[46] Sir John Faa took the opportunity of the earl’s absence from home (while Lord Cassilis was attending the Westminster Assembly, say some) to present himself at the castle, accompanied by a band of gypsies and himself disguised as a gypsy, and induced his old love to elope with him. But the earl returned in the nick of time, went in pursuit, captured the whole party, or all but one,[47] who is supposed to tell the story, and hanged them, on the dule tree, “a most umbrageous plane, which yet flourishes upon a mound in front of the castle gate.” The fugitive wife was banished from board and bed, and confined for life in a tower at Maybole, built for the purpose. “Eight heads carved in stone below one of the turrets are said to be the effigies of so many of the gypsies.”[48] The ford by which the lady and her lover crossed the River Doon is still called The Gypsies’ Steps.

Several accounts put the abduction at the time when the Earl of Cassilis was attending the Assembly of Divines at Westminster. This was in September, 1643. It is now known that Lady Cassilis died in December, 1642. What is much more important, it is known from two letters written by the earl immediately after her death that nothing could have occurred of a nature to alienate his affection, for in the one he speaks of her as a “dear friend” and “beloved yoke-fellow,” and in the other as his “dear bed-fellow.”[49]

“Seldom, when stripped of extraneous matter, has tradition been better supported than it has been in the case of Johnie Faa and the Countess of Cassilis:” Maidment, Scotish Ballads, 1868, II, 184. In a sense not intended, this is quite true; most of the traditions which have grown out of ballads have as slight a foundation as this. The connection of the ballad with the Cassilis family (as Mr Macmath has suggested to me) may possibly have arisen from the first line of some copy reading, ‘The gypsies came to the castle-gate.’ As #F# 1^3 has perverted Earl of Cassilis to Earl of Castle, so Castle may have been corrupted into Cassilis.[50]

Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 28, translates freely eight stanzas from Aytoun.

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A

Ramsay’s Tea-Table Miscellany, vol. iv, 1740. Here from the London edition of 1763, p. 427.

1 The gypsies came to our good lord’s gate, And wow but they sang sweetly! They sang sae sweet and sae very compleat That down came the fair lady.

2 And she came tripping down the stair, And a’ her maids before her; As soon as they saw her well-far’d face, They coost the glamer oer her.

3 ‘Gae tak frae me this gay mantile, And bring to me a plaidie; For if kith and kin and a’ had sworn, I’ll follow the gypsie laddie.

4 ‘Yestreen I lay in a well-made bed, And my good lord beside me; This night I’ll ly in a tenant’s barn, Whatever shall betide me.’

5 ‘Come to your bed,’ says Johny Faa, ‘Oh come to your bed, my deary; For I vow and I swear, by the hilt of my sword, That your lord shall nae mair come near ye.’

6 ‘I’ll go to bed to my Johny Faa, I’ll go to bed to my deary; For I vow and I swear, by what past yestreen, That my lord shall nae mair come near me.

7 ‘I’ll mak a hap to my Johnny Faa, And I’ll mak a hap to my deary; And he’s get a’ the coat gaes round, And my lord shall nae mair come near me.’

8 And when our lord came hame at een, And speir’d for his fair lady, The tane she cry’d, and the other reply’d, ‘She’s away with the gypsie laddie.’

9 ‘Gae saddle to me the black, black steed, Gae saddle and make him ready; Before that I either eat or sleep, I’ll gae seek my fair lady.’

10 And we were fifteen well-made men, Altho we were nae bonny; And we were a’ put down for ane, A fair young wanton lady.

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B

#a.# The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany, being a new series of the Scots Magazine (vol. lxxx of the entire work), November, 1817, p. 309, communicated by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, as taken down from the recitation of a peasant in Galloway. #b.# A fragment recited by Miss Fanny Walker, of Mount Pleasant, near Newburgh-on-Tay, as communicated by Mr Alexander Laing, 1873.

1 The gypsies they came to my lord Cassilis’ yett, And O but they sang bonnie! They sang sae sweet and sae complete That down came our fair ladie.

2 She came tripping down the stairs, And all her maids before her; As soon as they saw her weel-far’d face, They coost their glamourie owre her.

3 She gave to them the good wheat bread, And they gave her the ginger; But she gave them a far better thing, The gold ring off her finger.

4 ‘Will ye go with me, my hinny and my heart? Will ye go with me, my dearie? And I will swear, by the staff of my spear, That your lord shall nae mair come near thee.’

5 ‘Sae take from me my silk mantel, And bring to me a plaidie, For I will travel the world owre Along with the gypsie laddie.

6 ‘I could sail the seas with my Jockie Faa, I could sail the seas with my dearie; I could sail the seas with my Jockie Faa, And with pleasure could drown with my dearie.

7 They wandred high, they wandred low, They wandred late and early, Untill they came to an old tenant’s-barn, And by this time she was weary.

8 ‘Last night I lay in a weel-made bed, And my noble lord beside me, And now I must ly in an old tenant’s-barn, And the black crew glowring owre me.’

9 ‘O hold your tongue, my hinny and my heart, O hold your tongue, my dearie, For I will swear, by the moon and the stars, That thy lord shall nae mair come near thee.’

10 They wandred high, they wandred low, They wandred late and early, Untill they came to that wan water, And by this time she was wearie.

11 ‘Aften have I rode that wan water, And my lord Cassilis beside me, And now I must set in my white feet and wade, And carry the gypsie laddie.’

12 By and by came home this noble lord, And asking for his ladie, The one did cry, the other did reply, ‘She is gone with the gypsie laddie.’

13 ‘Go saddle to me the black,’ he says, ‘The brown rides never so speedie, And I will neither eat nor drink Till I bring home my ladie.’

14 He wandred high, he wandred low, He wandred late and early, Untill he came to that wan water, And there he spied his ladie.

15 ‘O wilt thou go home, my hinny and my heart, O wilt thou go home, my dearie? And I’ll close thee in a close room, Where no man shall come near thee.’

16 ‘I will not go home, my hinny and my heart, I will not go home, my dearie; If I have brewn good beer, I will drink of the same, And my lord shall nae mair come near me.

17 ‘But I will swear, by the moon and the stars, And the sun that shines so clearly, That I am as free of the gypsie gang As the hour my mother did bear me.’

18 They were fifteen valiant men, Black, but very bonny, And they lost all their lives for one, The Earl of Cassillis’ ladie.

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C

Motherwell’s MS., p. 381, from the recitation of Agnes Lyle, Kilbarchan, 27 July, 1825.

1 There cam singers to Earl Cassillis’ gates, And oh, but they sang bonnie! They sang sae sweet and sae complete, Till down cam the earl’s lady.

2 She cam tripping down the stair, And all her maids before her; As soon as they saw her weel-faurd face, They coost their glamourye owre her.

3 They gave her o the gude sweetmeats, The nutmeg and the ginger, And she gied them a far better thing, Ten gold rings aff her finger.

4 ‘Tak from me my silken cloak, And bring me down my plaidie; For it is gude eneuch,’ she said, ‘To follow a Gipsy Davy.

5 ‘Yestreen I rode this water deep, And my gude lord beside me; But this nicht I maun set in my pretty fit and wade, A wheen blackguards wading wi me.

6 ‘Yestreen I lay in a fine feather-bed, And my gude lord beyond me; But this nicht I maun lye in some cauld tenant’s-barn, A wheen blackguards waiting on me.’

7 ‘Come to thy bed, my bonny Jeanie Faw, Come to thy bed, my dearie, For I do swear, by the top o my spear, Thy gude lord’ll nae mair come near thee.’

8 When her good lord cam hame at nicht, It was asking for his fair ladye; One spak slow, and another whisperd out, ‘She’s awa wi Gipsey Davy!’

9 ‘Come saddle to me my horse,’ he said, ‘Come saddle and mak him readie! For I’ll neither sleep, eat, nor drink Till I find out my lady.’

10 They socht her up, they socht her doun, They socht her thro nations many, Till at length they found her out in Abbey dale, Drinking wi Gipsey Davy.

11 ‘Rise, oh rise, my bonnie Jeanie Faw, Oh rise, and do not tarry! Is this the thing ye promised to me When at first I did thee marry?’

12 They drank her cloak, so did they her goun, They drank her stockings and her shoon, And they drank the coat that was nigh to her smock, And they pawned her pearled apron.

13 They were sixteen clever men, Suppose they were na bonny; They are a’ to be hangd on ae tree, For the stealing o Earl Cassilis’ lady.

14 ‘We are sixteen clever men, One woman was a’ our mother; We are a’ to be hanged on ae day, For the stealing of a wanton lady.’

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D

Kinloch MSS, V, 331, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton; from a reciter who came from the vicinity of Craigievar.

1 There came Gyptians to Corse Field yeats, Black, tho they warna bonny; They danced so neat and they danced so fine, Till down came the bonny lady.

2 She came trippin down the stair, And her nine maidens afore her; But up and starts him Johny Fa, And he cast the glamour oer her.

3 ‘Ye’ll take frae me this gay mantle, And ye’ll gie to me a plaidie; For I shall follow Johny Fa, Lat weel or woe betide me.’

4 They’ve taen frae her her fine mantle, And they’ve gaen to her a plaidie, And she’s awa wi Johny Fa, Whatever may betide her.

5 When they came to a wan water, I wite it wasna bonny, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

6 ‘Yestreen I wade this wan water, And my good lord was wi me; The night I man cast aff my shoes and wide, And the black bands widen wi me.

7 ‘Yestreen I lay in a well made bed, And my good lord lay wi me; The night I maun ly in a tenant’s barn, And the black bauds lyin wi me.’

8 ‘Come to yer bed,’ says Johnie Fa, ‘Come to yer bed, my dearie, And I shall swer, by the coat that I wear, That my hand it shall never go near thee.

9 ‘I will never come to yer bed, I will never be yer dearie; For I think I hear his horse’s foot That was once called my dearie.’

10 ‘Come to yer bed,’ says Johny Fa, ‘Come to yer bed, my dearie, And I shall swear, by the coat that I wear, That my hand it shall never go oer thee.’

11 ‘I will niver come to yer bed, I will niver be yer dearie; For I think I hear his bridle ring That was once called my dearie.’

* * * * * *

12 When that good lord came hame at night, He called for his lady; The one maid said, and the other replied, ‘She’s aff wi the Gyptian laddy.’

13 ‘Ye’ll saddle to me the good black steed, Tho the brown it was never so bonny; Before that ever I eat or drink, I shall have back my lady.’

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14 ‘Yestreen we were fifteen good armed men; Tho black, we werena bonny; The night we a’ ly slain for one, It’s the Laird o Corse Field’s lady.’

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E

The Scottish Gallovidian Encyclopedia, by John Mactaggart, 1824, p. 284.

1 The gypsies they came to Lord Cassle’s yet, And O but they sang ready! They sang sae sweet and sae complete That down came the lord’s fair lady.

2 O she came tripping down the stair, Wi a’ her maids afore her, And as soon as they saw her weelfared face They cuist their glaumry owre her.

3 She gaed to them the gude white bread, And they gaed to her the ginger, Then she gaed to them a far brawer thing, The gowd rings af her finger.

4 Quo she to her maids, There’s my gay mantle, And bring to me my plaidy, And tell my lord whan he comes hame I’m awa wi a gypsie laddie.

5 For her lord he had to the hounting gane, Awa in the wild green wuddie, And Jockie Faw, the gypsie king, Saw him there wi his cheeks sae ruddy.

6 On they mounted, and af they rade, Ilk gypsie had a cuddy, And whan through the stincher they did prance They made the water muddy.

7 Quo she, Aft times this water I hae rade, Wi many a lord and lady, But never afore did I it wade To follow a gypsie laddie.

8 ‘Aft hae I lain in a saft feather-bed, Wi my gude lord aside me, But now I maun sleep in an auld reeky kilt, Alang wi a gypsie laddie.’

9 Sae whan that the yirl he came hame, His servants a’ stood ready; Some took his horse, and some drew his boots, But gane was his fair lady.

10 And whan he came ben to the parlour-door, He asked for his fair lady, But some denied, and ithers some replied, ‘She’s awa wi a gypsie laddie.’

11 ‘Then saddle,’ quoth he, ‘my gude black naig, For the brown is never sae speedy; As I will neither eat nor drink Till I see my fair lady.

12 ‘I met wi a cheel as I rade hame, And thae queer stories said he; Sir, I saw this day a fairy queen Fu pack wi a gypsie laddie.

13 ‘I hae been east, and I hae been west, And in the lang town o Kircadie, But the bonniest lass that ever I saw Was following a gypsie laddie.’

14 Sae his lordship has rade owre hills and dales, And owre mony a wild hie mountain, Until that he heard his ain lady say, ‘Now my lord will be hame frae the hounting.’

15 ‘Than will yon come hame, my hinnie and my love?’ Quoth he to his charming dearie, ‘And I’ll keep ye aye in a braw close room, Where the gypsies will never can steer ye.’

16 Said she, ‘I can swear by the sun and the stars, And the moon whilk shines sae clearie, That I am as chaste for the gypsie Jockie Faw As the day my minnie did bear me.’

17 ‘Gif ye wad swear by the sun,’ said he, ‘And the moon, till ye wad deave me, Ay and tho ye wad take a far bigger aith, My dear, I wadna believe ye.

18 ‘I’ll tak ye hame, and the gypsies I’ll hang, Ay, I’ll make them girn in a wuddie, And afterwards I’ll burn Jockie Faw, Wha fashed himself wi my fair lady.

19 Quoth the gypsies, We’re fifteen weel-made men, Tho the maist o us be ill bred ay, Yet it wad be a pity we should a’ hang for ane, Wha fashed himself wi your fair lady.

20 Quoth the lady, My lord, forgive them a’, For they nae ill eer did ye, And gie ten guineas to the chief, Jockie Faw, For he is a worthy laddie.

21 The lord he hearkened to his fair dame, And O the gypsies war glad ay! They danced round and round their merry Jockie Faw, And roosed the gypsie laddie.

22 Sae the lord rade hame wi his charming spouse, Owre the hills and the haughs sae whunnie, And the gypsies slade down by yon bonny burn-side, To beek themsells there sae sunnie.

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F

The Songs of England and Scotland [by P. Cunningham], London, 1835, II, 346, taken down, as current in the north of England, from the recitation of John Martin, the painter.

1 The gypsies came to the Earl o Cassilis’ gate, And O but they sang bonnie! They sang sae sweet and sae complete That down cam our fair ladie.

2 And she cam tripping down the stair, Wi her twa maids before her; As soon as they saw her weel-far’d face, They coost their glamer oer her.

3 ‘O come wi me,’ says Johnnie Faw, ‘O come wi me, my dearie, For I vow and swear, by the hilt of my sword, Your lord shall nae mair come near ye.’

4 ‘Here, tak frae me this gay mantile, And gie to me a plaidie; Tho kith and kin and a’ had sworn, I’ll follow the gypsie laddie.

5 ‘Yestreen I lay in a weel-made bed, And my gude lord beside me; This night I’ll lie in a tenant’s barn, Whatever shall betide me.

6 ‘Last night I lay in a weel-made bed, Wi silken hangings round me; But now I’ll lie in a farmer’s barn, Wi the gypsies all around me.

7 ‘The first ale-house that we come at, We’ll hae a pot o brandie; The next ale-house that we came at, We’ll drink to gypsie Geordie.’

8 Now when our lord cam home at een, He speir’d for his fair lady; The ane she cried, [the] tither replied, ‘She’s awa wi the gypsie laddie.’

9 ‘Gae saddle me the gude black steed; The bay was neer sae bonnie; For I will neither eat nor sleep Till I be wi my lady.’

10 Then he rode east, and he rode west, And he rode near Strabogie, And there he found his ain dear wife, Drinking wi gypsie Geordie.

11 ‘And what made you leave your houses and land? Or what made you leave your money? Or what made you leave your ain wedded lord, To follow the gypsie laddie?

12 ‘Then come thee hame, my ain dear wife, Then come thee hame, my hinnie, And I do swear, by the hilt of my sword, The gypsies nae mair shall come near thee.’

13 Then we were seven weel-made men, But lack! we were nae bonnie, And we were a’ put down for ane, For the Earl o Cassilis’ ladie.

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G

#a.# A broadside in the Roxburghe Ballads, III, 685, entered in the catalogue, doubtfully, as of Newcastle upon Tyne, 1720. #b.# A recent stall-copy, Catnach, 2 Monmouth Court, Seven Dials.

1 There was seven gypsies all in a gang, They were brisk and bonny; O They rode till they came to the Earl of Castle’s house, And there they sang most sweetly. O

2 The Earl of Castle’s lady came down, With the waiting-maid beside her; As soon as her fair face they saw, They called their grandmother over.

3 They gave to her a nutmeg brown, And a race of the best ginger; She gave to them a far better thing, ’Twas the ring from off her finger.

4 She pulld off her high-heeld shoes, They was made of Spanish leather; She put on her highland brog[u]es, To follow the gypsey loddy.

5 At night when my good lord came home, Enquiring for his lady, The waiting-maid made this reply, ‘She’s following the gypsey loddy.’

6 ‘Come saddle me my milk-white steed, Come saddle it so bonny, As I may go seek my own wedded wife, That’s following the gypsey loddy.

7 ‘Have you been east? have you been west? Or have you been brisk and bonny? Or have you seen a gay lady, A following the gypsey loddy?’

8 He rode all that summer’s night, And part of the next morning; At length he spy’d his own wedded wife, She was cold, wet, and weary.

9 ‘Why did you leave your houses and land? Or why did you leave your money? Or why did you leave your good wedded lord, To follow the gypsey loddy?’

10 ‘O what care I for houses and land? Or what care I for money? So as I have brewd, so will I return; So fare you well, my honey!’

11 There was seven gypsies in a gang, And they was brisk and bonny, And they’re to be hanged all on a row, For the Earl of Castle’s lady.

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H

Shropshire Lolk-Lore, edited by Charlotte Sophia Burne, p. 550, as sung May 23, 1885, by gypsy children.

1 There came a gang o gipsies by, And they was singing so merry, O Till they gained the heart o my lady gay, . . . . . . .

2 As soon as the lord he did come in, Enquired for his lady, O And some o the sarvants did-a reply, ‘Her’s away wi the gipsy laddie.’ O

3 ‘O saddle me the bay, and saddle me the grey, Till I go and sarch for my lady;’ And some o the sarvants did-a reply, ‘Her’s away wi the gipsy laddie.’

4 And he rode on, and he rode off, Till he came to the gipsies’ tentie, And there he saw his lady gay, By the side o the gipsy laddie.

5 ‘Didn’t I leave you houses and land? And didn’t I leave you money? Didn’t I leave you three pretty babes As ever was in yonder green island?’

6 ‘What care I for houses and land? And what care I for money? What do I care for three pretty babes?’ . . . . . . .

7 ‘The tother night you was on a feather bed, Now you’re on a straw one,’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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I

From Miss Margaret Reburn, “as sung in County Meath, Ireland, about 1860.”

1 There come seven gypsies on a day, Oh, but they sang bonny! O And they sang so sweet, and they sang so clear, Down cam the earl’s ladie. O

2 They gave to her the nutmeg, And they gave to her the ginger; But she gave to them a far better thing, The seven gold rings off her fingers.

3 When the earl he did come home, Enquiring for his ladie, One of the servants made this reply, ‘She’s awa with the gypsie lad[d]ie.’

4 ‘Come saddle for me the brown,’ he said, ‘For the black was neer so speedy, And I will travel night and day Till I find out my ladie.

5 ‘Will you come home, my dear?’ he said, ‘Oh will you come home, my honey? And, by the point of my broad sword, A hand I’ll neer lay on you.’

6 ‘Last night I lay on a good feather-bed, And my own wedded lord beside me, And tonight I’ll lie in the ash-corner, With the gypsies all around me.

7 ‘They took off my high-heeled shoes, That were made of Spanish leather, And I have put on coarse Lowland brogues, To trip it oer the heather.’

8 ‘The Earl of Cashan is lying sick; Not one hair I’m sorry; I’d rather have a kiss from his fair lady’s lips Than all his gold and his money.’

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J

#a.# Written down by Newton Pepoun, as learned from a boy with whom he went to school in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, about 1845. #b.# From the singing of Mrs Farmer, born in Maine, as learned by her daughter, about 1840.

1 There was a gip came oer the land, He sung so sweet and gaily; He sung with glee, neath the wild wood tree, He charmed the great lord’s lady. Ring a ding a ding go ding go da, Ring a ding a ding go da dy, Ring a ding a ding go ding go da, She’s gone with the gipsey Davy.

2 The lord he came home late that night; Enquiring for his lady, ‘She’s gone, she’s gone,’ said his old servant-man, ‘She’s gone with the gipsey Davy.’

3 ‘Go saddle me my best black mare; The grey is neer so speedy; For I’ll ride all night, and I’ll ride all day, Till I overtake my lady.’

4 Riding by the river-side, The grass was wet and dewy; Seated with her gipsey lad, It’s there he spied his lady.

5 ‘Would you forsake your house and home? Would you forsake your baby? Would you forsake your own true love, And go with the gipsey Davy?’

6 ‘Yes, I’ll forsake my house and home, Yes, I’ll forsake my baby; What care I for my true love? I love the gipsey Davy.’

7 The great lord he rode home that night, He took good care of his baby, And ere six months had passed away He married another lady.

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K