Part 63

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 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 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 tune Is, Your love cannot win here.’

9 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.

10 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.

11 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.’

13 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.

14 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.’

16 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.’

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 in Put by a silver bell.’

21 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.

22 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.

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 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 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 in #G# 39, #H# 19) 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 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.’

‘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 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 goud To say that she was dead.

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 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.

‘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 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 dead She smil’d her love upon.

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.’

* * * * *

H

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

1 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-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?’

4 ‘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-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.

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.’

* * * * * *

8 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-window An hear yon Scottish bird sing.’

10 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-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?’

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 England To burry thee an me; But sould ye die, my dear daughter, I Scotland I’ll burry thee.’

19 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.’

21 Then they hae askit the surgeon at, etc.

22 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.

23 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!’

24 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.’

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

27 ‘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.

29 ‘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.

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 Scotland They’s fare nae war than me.

33 ‘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 Scotland To rot amang the clay, But I cam to fair Scotland To wear goud ilka day.’

10^2. _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.

99. Johnie Scot.

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

379 ff.

* * * * *

Q

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

1 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.

2 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.

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

4 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.’

6 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 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 lee And tell young Johnie to come.’

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

10 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 laidy Who last lay by my side.’

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

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

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

15 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.’

17 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.

18 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 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.’

21 ‘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.’

22 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 bower That will fight you three by three.’

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

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

26 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.

27 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.

28 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.

29 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.’

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.’

27^4. hill.

29^4. two.

* * * * *

R

“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.

1 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.

2 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.

3 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.

4 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.’

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 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.

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 house Will fight you till you die.’

17 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.’

18 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.’

19 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.

20 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?’

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 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.’

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

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

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

28 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.

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.’

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

5^2. supose.

8^3. no news _thrice:_ master _wrongly, in anticipation of 13^3._

_In No 139._

4^{3,4}. That the king’s eldest daughter Goes with child to.

7^1. There is a shift, little boy.

7^4. parents leave.

8^2. ye to.

16^1. But she.

16^3. father’s hall.

19^2. They gard.

19^4. They made.

22^2. James our.

23^1. name, kind sir.

25^1. out soon.

28^2. blown it baith loud.

29^1. did cry.

29^2. tocher fee.

29^3. Jonnie cri’s.

30^1. our.

30^2. Nor none.

* * * * *

S

“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.”

1 O Johny’s up thro England gane Three quarters of a year, An Johny’s up thro England gane, The king’s banner to bear.

2 He had not been in London town But a very little while Till the fairest lady in the court By Johny gaes wi child.

3 But word is to the kitchin gane, An word’s gane to the ha, An word’s gane to yon high, high court, Amang our nobles a’.

4 An when the king got wit o that An angry man was he: ‘On the highest tree in a’ the wood High hangit shall he be!

5 ‘An for the lady, if it’s true, As I do fear it be, I’ll put her in yon castle strong, An starve her till she die.’

6 But Johny had a clever boy, A clever boy was he, O Johny had a clever boy, His name was Gregory.

7 ‘O run, my boy, to yon castle, All windows round about, An there you’l see a fair lady, At a window looking out.

8 ‘Ye maun bid her take this silken sark— Her ain hand sewd the gare— An bid her come to the green wood, For Johny waits her there.’

9 Away he ran to yon castle, All windows round about, Where he espy’d a lady fair, At a window looking out.

10 ‘O madam, there’s a silken sark— Your ain hand sewd the gare— An haste ye to the good green wood, For Johny waits you there.’

11 ‘O I’m confin’d in this castle, Though lighted round about; My feet are bound with fetters strong, That I cannot win out.

12 ‘My gartens are of stubborn ern, Alas! baith stiff and cold; My breastplate of the sturdy steel, Instead of beaten gold.

13 ‘Instead of silken stays, my boy, With steel I’m lac’d about; My feet are bound with fetters strong, And how can I get out?

14 ‘But tell him he must stay at home, Nor venture here for me; Else an Italian in our court Must fight him till he die.’

15 When Johny he got wit o that, An angry man was he: ‘But I will gae wi a’ my men My dearest dear to see.’

16 But up then spake a noble lord, A noble lord was he; ‘The best of a’ my merry men Shall bear you company.’

17 But up then spake his auld mother, I wat wi meikle pain; ‘If ye will gae to London, son, Ye’l neer come back again.’

18 But Johny turnd him round about, I wat wi meikle pride: ‘But I will gae to London town, Whatever may betide.’

19 When they were a’ on horseback set, How comely to behold! For a’ the hairs o Johny’s head Did shine like threads o gold.

20 The first ae town that they gaed through, They gart the bells be rung, But the neist town that they gaed through They gart the mass be sung.