The English and Scottish Popular Ballads/Part 4/Chapter 99

O was as brave a knight As ever saild the sea, An he's done him to the English court, To serve for meat and fee. He had nae been in fair England But yet a little while, Untill the kingis ae daughter To johney proves wi chil. O word's come to the king himsel, In his chair where he sat, That his ae daughter was wi bairn To Jack, the Little Scott. 'Gin this be true that I do hear, As I trust well it be, Ye pit her into prison strong, An starve her till she die.' O Johney's on to fair Scotland, A wot he went wi speed, An he has left the kingis court, A wot good was his need. O it fell once upon a day That Johney he thought lang, An he's gane to the good green wood, As fast as he coud gang. 'O whare will I get a bonny boy, To rin my errand soon, That will rin into fair England, An haste him back again?' O up it starts a bonny boy, Gold yallow was his hair, I wish his mither meickle joy, His bonny love mieckle mair. 'O here am I, a bonny boy, Will rin your errand soon; I will gang into fair England, An come right soon again.' O whan he came to broken briggs, He bent his bow and swam; An whan he came to the green grass growan, He slaikid his shoone an ran. Whan he came to yon high castzel, He ran it roun about, An there he saw the king's daughter, At the window looking out. 'O here's a sark o silk, lady, Your ain han sewd the sleeve; You'r bidden come to fair Scotlan, Speer nane o your parents leave. 'Ha, take this sark o silk, lady, Your ain han swed the gare; You're bidden come to good green wood, Love Johney waits you there.' She's turnd her right and roun about, The tear was in her ee: 'How can I come to my true-love, Except I had wings to flee? 'Here am I kept wi bars and bolts, Most grievous to behold; My breast-plate's o the sturdy steel, Instead of the beaten gold. 'But tak this purse, my bonny boy, Ye well deserve a fee, An bear this letter to my love, An tell him what you see.' Then quickly ran the bonny boy Again to Scotlan fair, An soon he reachd Pitnachton's towrs, An soon found Johney there. He pat the letter in his han An taul him what he sa, But eer he half the letter read, He loote the tears doun fa. 'O I will gae back to fair Englan, Tho death shoud me betide, An I will relieve the damesel That lay last by my side.' Then out it spake his father dear, My son, you are to blame; An gin you'r catchd on English groun, I fear you'll neer win hame. Then out it spake a valiant knight, Johny's best friend was he; I can commaun five hunder men, An I'll his surety be. The firstin town that they came till, They gard the bells be rung; An the nextin town that they came till, They gard the mess be sung. The thirdin town that they came till, They gard the drums beat roun; The king but an his nobles a', Was startld at the soun. Whan they came to the king's palace They rade it roun about, An there they saw the king himsel, At the window looking out. 'Is this the Duke o Albany, Or James, the Scottish king? Or are ye some great foreign lord, That's come a visiting?' 'I'm nae the Duke of Albany, Nor James, the Scottish king; But I'm a valiant Scottish knight, Pitnachton is my name.' 'O if Pitnachton be your name, As I trust well it be, The morn, or I tast meat or drink, You shall be hanged hi.' Then out it spake the valiant knight That came brave Johney wi; Behold five hunder bowmen bold, Will die to set him free. Then out it spake the king again, An a scornfu laugh laugh he; I have an Italian i my house Will fight you three by three. 'O grant me a boon,' brave Johney cried; 'Bring your Italian here; Then if he fall beneath my sword, I've won your daughter dear.' Then out it came that Italian, An a gurious ghost was he; Upo the point o Johney's sword This Italian did die. Out has he drawn his lang, lang bran, Struck it across the plain: 'Is there any more o your English dogs That you want to be slain?' 'A clark, a clark,' the king then cried, 'To write her tocher free;' 'A priest, a priest,' says Love Johney, 'To marry my love and me. 'I'm seeking nane o your gold,' he says, 'Nor of your silver clear; I only seek your daughter fair, Whose love has cost her dear.'

'rrS into England gane, Three quarters of a year; Johnny's into England gane, The king's banner to bear. He had na been in England lang, But and a little while, Untill the king's daughter To Johnny gaes wi child. Word is to the kitchin gane, And word is to the ha, And word is to the king's palace, Amang the nobles a'. Word's gane to the king's palace, The palace where she sat, That his ae daughter gaes wi child To Jock, the Little Scot. 'If she be wi child,' he says, 'As I trow well she be, I'll put her into strang prison, And hang her till she die.' But up and spak young Johnny, And O he spake in time: Is there never a bony boy here Will rin my errand soon? That will gae to yon castle, And look it round about? And there he'll see a fair lady, The window looking out. Up then spak a bony boy, And a bony boy was he: I'll run thy errand, Johnny, he said, Untill the day I die. 'Put on your gown o silk, madam, And on your hand a glove, And gang into the good green-wood, To Johnny, your true-love.' 'The fetters they are on my feet, And O but they are cauld! My bracelets they are sturdy steel, Instead of beaten gold. 'But I will write a lang letter, And seal it tenderlie, And I will send to my true-love, Before that I do die.' The first look that Johnny lookd, A loud laughter gae he; But the next look that Johnny gae, The tear blinded his ee. He says, I'll into England gae, Whatever may betide, And a' to seek a fair woman That sud hae been my bride. But up and speaks his father, And O he spak in time: If that ye into England gae, I'm feerd ye neer come hame. But up then speaks our gude Scotch king, And a brisk young man was he: He's hae five hunder o my life-guard, To bear him companie. When Johnny was on saddle set, And seemly for to see, There was not a married man Into his companie. When Johnny sat on saddle-seat, And seemly to behold, The hair that hang on Johnny's head Was like the threads o gold. When he cam to. . . He gard the bells a' ring, Untill the king and a' his court Did marvel at the thing. 'Is this the brave Argyle,' he said, 'That's landed and come hame? Is this the brave Argyle,' he said, 'Or James, our Scottish king?' 'It's no the brave Argyle,' they said, 'That's landed and come hame; But it is a brave young Scottish knight, McNaughtan is his name.' 'If McNaughtan be his name,' he says, 'As I trow weel it be, The fairest lady in a' my court Gangs wi child to thee.' 'If that she be wi child,' he says, 'As I wat weel she be, I'll mak it lord o a' my land, And her my gay lady.' 'I have a champion in my court Will fight you a' by three;' But up then speaks a brisk young man, And a brisk young man was he: I will fight to my life's end, Before poor Johnny die. The king but and his nobles a' Went out into the plain, The queen but and her maidens a', To see young Johnny slain. The first wound that Johnny gae the champion Was a deep wound and sair; The next wound that he gae the champion, He never spak mair. 'A priest, a priest,' young Johnny cries, 'To wed me and my love;' 'A clerk, a clerk,' the king he cried, 'To sign her tocher gude.' 'I'll hae nane o your goud,' he says, 'I'll hae nane o your gear, But a' I want is my true-love, For I hae bought her dear.' He took out a little goat-horn, And blew baith loud and shill; The victry's into Scotland gane, Tho sair against their will.

O 'rrS to the hunting gone, Unto the woods sae wild, And Earl Percy's old daughter To Johnie goes with child. O word is to the kitchen gone, And word is to the ha, And word is to the highest towers, Amang the nobles a'. 'If she be with child,' her father said, 'As woe forbid it be, I'll put her into a prison strong, And try the veritie.' 'But if she be with child,' her mother said, 'As woe forbid it be, I'll put her intil a dungeon dark, And hunger her till she die.' Then she has wrote a braid letter, And sealed it wi her hand, And sent T to the merry green wood, Wi her own boy at command. The first line of the letter he read, His heart was full of joy; But he had not read a line past two Till the salt tears blind his eye. 'O I must up to England go, What ever me betide, For to relieve that fair ladie That lay last by my side.' Out and spak his father then, And he spak all in time: Johnie, if ye to England go, I fear ye'll neer return. But out and spak his uncle then, And he spak bitterlie: Five hundred of my good life-guards Shall go along with thee. When they were mounted on their steeds, They were comely to behold; The hair that hung owre Johnie's shoulders Was like the yellow gold. The first town that they came to, They made the bells to ring; And when they rode the town all owre, They made the trumpets sound. When they came to Earl Percy's gates, They rode them round about, And who saw he but his own true-love, At a window looking out! 'The doors they are bolted with iron and steel, The windows round about; My feet they are in fetters strong; And how can I get out? 'My garters they are of the lead, And oh but they be cold! My breast-plate's of the beaten steel, Instead of beaten gold.' But when they came to Earl Percy's yett, They tirled at the pin; None was so ready as Earl Percy To open and let them in. 'Art thou the King of Aulsberry, Or art thou the King of Spain? Or art thou one of our gay Scots lords, McNachtan by thy name?' 'I'm not the King of Aulsberry, Nor yet the King of Spain; But I am one of our gay Scots lords, Johnie Scot I am called by name.' 'If Johnnie Scot be thy name,' he said, 'As I trow weel it be, The fairest lady in a' our court Gaes big with child to thee.' 'If she be with child,' fair Johnie said, 'As I trow weel she be, I'll make it heir owre a' my land, And her my gay ladie.' 'But if she be with child,' her father said, 'As I trow weel she be, Tomorrow morn again eight o clock High hanged thou shalt be.' But out and spak his uncle then, And he spak bitterlie: Before that we see Johnie Scot slain, We'll a' fight till we die. 'But is there ever a Tailliant about your court, That will fight duels three? Before that I be hanged or slain, On the Tailliant's sword I'll die.' But some is to the good green wood, And some is to the plain, Either to see fair Johnie hanged, Or else to see him slain. And they began at eight o clock of the morning, And they fought on till three, Till the Tailliant, like a swallow swift, Owre Johnie's head did flee. But Johnie being a clever young boy, He wheeled him round about, And on the point of Johnie's broad sword The Tailliant he slew out. 'A priest, a priest,' fair Johnie cried, 'To wed my love and me;' 'A clerk, a clerk,' her father cried, 'To sum the tocher free.' 'I'll have non of your gold,' fair Johnie said, 'Nor none of your white monie; But I will have my own fair bride, For I vow that I've bought her dear.' He's taen his true-love by the hand, He led her up the plain: 'Have you any more of your English dogs You want for to have slain?' He took a little horn out of his pocket, He blew it baith loud and shill, And honour's into Scotland gone, In spite of England's skill.

O Scot walks up and down Among the woods sae wild; Who but the Earl of Percy's ae daughter To him goes big with child! O word is to the kitchen gone, And word's gone to the hall, And word is to King Henry gane, And amongst his nobles all. O Johnnie's called his waiting-man, His name was Germanie: 'O thou must to fair England go, Bring me that fair ladie.' He rode till he came to Earl Percy's gate, He tirled at the pin; 'O who is there?' said the proud porter, 'But I daurna let thee in.' So he rade up, and he rode down, Till he rode it round about; Then he saw her at a wee window, Where she was looking out. 'O thou must go to Johnnie Scot, Unto the woods so green, In token of thy silken shirt, Thine own hand sewed the seam.' 'How can I go to Johnnie Scot? Or how can I get out? My breast plate's o the hard, hard iron, With fetters round about. 'But I will write a lang letter, And give it unto thee, And thou must take that to Johnnie Scot, See what answer he sends to me.' When Johnnie looked the letter upon A sorry man was he; He had not read one line but two Till the saut tear did blind his ee. 'O I must to fair England go, Whatever me betide, All for to fight for that gay ladie That last lay by my side.' O out and spoke his father then, And he spoke well in time: O if you to fair England go, I doubt your coming home. 'O no, O no,' said good King James, 'Before such a thing shall be, I'll send five hundred of my life-guards, To bear Johnnie company.' When they were all on saddle set, Most pleasant to behold, The hair that hung over Johnnie's neck Was like the links of gold. When they were all marching away, Most beautiful to see, There was not so much as a married man In Johnnie's company. O Johnnie was the foremost man In the company that did ride; King James he was the second man, Wi his rapier by his side. They rode till they came to Earl Percy's yate, They tirled at the pin: 'O who is there?' said the proud porter; 'But I daurnot let thee in. 'Is it the Duke of York,' he said, 'Or James, our Scotish king? Or is it one of the Scotish lords, From hunting new come home?' 'It's not the Duke of York,' he said, 'Nor James, our Scotish king; But it is one of the Scotish lords, Earl Hector is my name.' When Johnnie came before the king, He fell low down on his knee: 'O the brawest lady in a' my court With child goes big to thee.' 'O if she be with child,' Johnnie said, 'As I trew well she be, I will make it heir of all my land, And her my gay ladie.' 'But if she be with child,' said the king, 'As I trew well she be, Before the morn at ten o clock High hanged thou shalt be.' 'O no, O no,' said good King James, 'Before such a thing shall be, Before that Johnnie Scot be hanged, We'll a' fight till we die.' 'But there is a Talliant in my court, Of men he will fight five; Go bring them out to the green wood, See wha will gain the prize.' Lords and ladies flocked all, They flocked all amain, They flocked all to the green wood, To see poor Johnnie slain. This Talliant he could find no way To be poor Johnnie's dead, But, like unto a swallow swift, He jumped oer Johnnie's head. But Johnnie was a clever man, Cunning and crafty withal, And up on the top of his braid sword He made this Talliant fall. 'A priest, a priest,' then Johnnie cried, 'To marry my love and me;' 'A clerk, a clerk,' her father cried, 'To sum the tocher free.' 'I'll take none of your gold,' Johnnie said, 'Nor none of your other gear, But I'll just have my own true-love, This day I've won her dear.'

'rrS unto England gane, The king's banner to bear: 'O do you see yon castle, boy? It's walled round about; There you will spy a fair ladye, In the window looking out.' 'Here is a silken sark, fair lady, Thine own hand sewed the sleeve, And thou must go to yon green wood, To Johnnie thy true-love.' 'The castle it is high, my boy, And walled round about; My feet are in the fetters strong, And how can I get out? 'My garters o the gude black iron, And they are very cold; My breast plate's of the sturdy steel, Instead of beaten gold. 'But had I paper, pen and ink, And candle at my command, It's I would write a lang letter To John in fair Scotland.' The first line that Johnnie looked on, A loud, loud lauch leuch he; The second line that Johnnie looked on, The tear did blind his ee. Says, I must unto England go, Whatever me betide, For to relieve my own fair lady, That lay last by my side. Then up and spoke Johnnie's auld mither, A well spoke woman was she: If you do go to England, Johnnie, I may take farewell o thee. Then up and spoke Johnnie's old father, A well spoke man was he: It's twenty-four of my gay troop Shall go along with thee. When Johnie was on saddle set, Right comely to be seen, There was not so much as a married man In Johnie's companie; There was not so much as a married man, Not a one only but ane. The first gude toun that Johnie came to, He made the bells be rung; The next gude toun that Johnie came to, He made the psalms be sung. The next gude toun that Johnie came to, He made the drums beat round, Till the king and all his merry men A-marvelled at the sound. 'Are you the Duke of Mulberry, Or James, our Scotish king? Are you the Duke of Mulberry, From Scotland new come home?' 'I'm not the Duke of Mulberry, Nor James, our Scotish king; But I am a true Scotishman, McNaughtoun is my name.' 'If McNaughtoun be your name,' he said, 'As I trew well it be, The fairest lady in a' my court She goes with child to thee. 'If McNauchton be your name,' he said, 'As I trew well it be, Tomorrow morn by eight o clock O hanged you shall be.' O Johnie had a bonnie little boy, His name was Germany: 'Before that we be all hanged, my sovereign, We'll fight you till we die.' 'Say on, say on, my bonnie little boy, It is well spoken of thee, For there is a campioun in my court Shall fight you three by three.' Next morning about eight o'clock The king and his merry men, The queen and all her maidens fair, Came whistling down the green, To see the cruel fight begin, And see poor Johnnie slain. y fought on, and Johnie fought on, Wi swords of tempered steel, Until the drops of red, red blood Ran prinkling down the field. They fought on, and Johnie fought on, They fought so manfullie They left not a man alive in all the king's court, Not a man only but three. 'A priest, a priest,' poor Johnie cries, 'To wed my love and me;' 'A clerk, a clerk,' the king did cry, 'To write her portion free.' 'I'll have none of your gold,' he says, 'Nor none of your white money, But I will have mine own fair lady, Who has been dear to me.' Johnie put a horn unto his mouth, He blew it wondrous schill; The sound is unto Scotland gane, Sair against all their will. He put his horn to his mouth, He blew it ower again, And aye the sound the horn cried, 'McNaughtoun's cure to them!'

has to the kitchen gane, And word is to the ha, And word has to the king himsell, In the chamber where he sat, That his ae daughter gaes wi bairn To bonnie Johnie Scot. Word has to the kitchen gane, And word has to the ha, And word has to the queen hersell, In the chamber where she sat, That her ae dochter gaes wi bairn To bonnie Johnie Scot. 'O if she be wi bairn,' he says, 'As I trew well she be, We'll put her in a prison strang, And try her verity.' 'O if she be wi bairn,' she says, 'As I trew weel she be, We'll put her in a dungeon dark, And hunger her till she die.' Now she has written a letter, And sealed it with her hand, And sent it unto Johnie Scot, To come at her command. The first lang line that he looked to, He laughed at the same; The neist lang line that he did read, The tears did blin his een. 'Once more to England I must go, May God be my sure guide! And all to see that lady fair That last lay by my side.' Then out bespoke our Scotish king, And he spoke manfullie: I and three thousand of my guards Will bear you companye. They all were mounted on horseback, So gallantly they rode; The hair that hung owre Johnie's shoulders Was like the links of goud. When they came to the king of England's gate, They knocked at the pin; So ready was the king himsell To open and let them in. 'Are you the Duke [of York],' he says, 'Or are ye the King of Spain? Or are ye some of the gay Scots boys, From hunting now come hame?' 'I am not the Duke of York,' he says, 'Nor yet the King of Spain; But I am one of the gay Scots boys, From hunting just come hame.' 'If you are one of the Scots boys, As I trew weel you be, The fairest lady in my hall Gaes big wi child to thee.' 'Then if she be wi bairn,' he says, 'As I trew weel she be, I'll make him heir of a' my gear, And her my fair ladye.' 'If she be wi bairn,' her father says, 'As I trew weel she be, Before the morn at ten o'clock High hanged thou shall be.' Then out bespake our Scotish king, And he spoke manfullie: Before that Johnie Scott be slain, We'll all fight till we die. 'I have a Talliant in my house We'll fight your men by three;' 'Bring out your trooper,' Johnie says, 'For fain I would him see.' Some gade unto the high mountain, Some gade unto the plain, Some at high windows looked out, To see poor Johnie slain. The Talliant he fought on a while, Thinking of Johnie would retire, And then he, like a swallow swifte, Owre Johnie's head did flee. But Johnie was a clever man, And turned about with speed, And on the edge of his broadsword He slew the Talliant dead. Then he has brought the lady out, And sat her on a dapple-gray, And being mounted on before, They briskly rode away. Now the honour unto Scotland came, In spite of England's skill; The honour unto Scotland came In spite of England's will.

'rrS a hunting gone, To England woods so wild, Until the king's old dochter dear She goes to him with child. 'If she be with bairn,' her mother says, 'As I trew weel she be, We'll put her in a dark dungeon, And hunger her till she die.' 'If she be with bairn,' her father says, 'As oh forbid she be! We'll put her in a prison strong, And try the veritie.' The king did write a long letter, Sealed it with his own hand, And he sent it to Johnie Scot, To speak at his command. When Johnie read this letter long, The tear blindit his ee: 'I must away to Old England; King Edward writes for me.' Out and spak his mother dear, She spoke aye in time: Son, if thou go to Old England, I fear thou'll neer come hame. Out and spoke a Scotish prince, And a weel spoke man was he: Here's four and twenty o my braw troops, To bear thee companie. Away they gade, awa they rade, Away they rade so slie; There was not a maried man that day In Johnie's companie. The first good town that they passed thro, They made their bells to ring; The next good town that they passed thro, They made their music sing. The next gude town that they passed thro, They made their drums beat round, The king and a' his gay armies Admiring at the sound. When they came to the king's court, They travelled round about, And there he spied his own true-love, At a window looking out. 'O fain wald I come down,' she says, 'Of that ye needna dout; But my garters they're of cauld, cauld iron, And I can no win out. 'My garters they're of cauld, cauld iron, And it is very cold; My breast-plate is of sturdy steel, Instead o beaten gold.' Out and spoke the king himsell, And an angry man was he: The fairest lady in a' my court, She goes with child to thee. 'If your old doughter be with child, As I trew weel she be, I'le make it heir of a' my land, And her my gay lady.' 'There is a Talliant in my court, This day he's killed three; And gin the morn by ten o'clock He'll kill thy men and thee.' Johnie took sword into his hand, And walked cross the plain; There was many a weeping lady there, To see young Johnie slain. The Talliant, never knowing this, Now he'll be Johnie's dead, But, like unto a swallow swift, He flew out owre his head. Johnie was a valliant man, Weel taught in war was he, And on the point of his broad sword The Talliant stickit he. Johnie took sword into his hand, And walked cross the plain: 'Are there here any moe of your English dogs That's wanting to be slain? 'A priest, a priest,' young Johnie cries, 'To wed my bride and me;' 'A clerk, a clerk,' her father cried, 'To tell her tocher wi.' 'I'm wanting none of your gold,' he says, 'As little of your gear; But give me just mine own true-love, I think I've won her dear.' Johnie sets horn into his mouth, And he blew loud and schrill; The honour it's to Scotland come, Sore against England's will.

' will I gett a bony boy, That would fain win hose and shoon, That will go on to yon palace, And hast him back again?' 'Here am I, a bony boy, That would fain win hose and shoon, That will go on to yon palace, And haste me back again.' 'When you come to yon palace, You'l run it round about; There you'l see a gay lady, At the window looking out. 'Give hir this shirt of silk, Hir own hand sewed the slive, And bid her come to good green woods, Spear no hir parents' leave. 'Give hir this shirt of silk, boy, Hir own hand sewed the gare; You'l bid her come to good green woods, Love Johny, I'll meet hir there.' When he came to yon palace, He ran it round about, And there he saw a gay lady, At the window looking out. 'Take here this shirt of silk, lady, Your own hand sewed the slive; You're biden come to good green woods, Spire no your parents' leave. 'Take here this shirt of silk, lady, Your own hand sewed the gare; You're biden come to good green woods, Love Johny'll meet you there.' 'The staunchens they are strong, boy, Dear, vow but they are stout! My feet they are in strong fetters, And how shall I win out? 'My garters is of the cold iron, Dear, vow but they are cold! And three splits of the sturdy steel, Instead of beaten goold. 'But I will write a braud leter, And sign it with my hand, And I will send it to Love Johny, Weel may he understand.' And she has wrote [a] braud leter, And signd it with hir hand, And sent it on to Love Jony, Weel did he understand. When he got this letter, A light laugh did he gie; But or he read it half down through, The salt tears blinded 's ee. Says, I'll awa to fair England, What ever may betide, And all is for the fair lady That lay close by my side. Out it spoke Jony's mother, And she spoke ay through pride; Says, If ye go to fair England, Sir, better to you bide. When Jony was on his sadle set, And seemly to behold, Every tet o Love Jony's hair Was like the threads of goold. When Jony was on his sadle set, And seemly for to see, There was not a maried man In a' Jony's company. The first town that they came till, They gard the bells be rung; The next town that they came till, They gard the mess bee sung. When they came to the king's palace, The drums they did beat round, And the quien and her marys all Amased at the sound. 'Is this the Duke of Mulberry, Or James, our Scottish king? Or is it any noble lord That's going a visiting?' 'It's not the Duke of Mulberry, Nor James, our Scottish king; But it is Jack, the Little Scot, And Auchney is his name.' 'If Auchney bee your name,' he said, 'As I trust weel it be, The fairest lady in all my court She goes with bairn to the.' 'If she be with bairn,' he said, 'As I doubt not nor she be, I will make it heir oer all my land, And hir my gay lady.' The king he swore a solemn oath, And a solemn oath swore he, 'The morn, before I eat or drink, High hanged he shall be!' The king and his nobles all Went out into the plain, And the quen and hir marys all, To see Love Johny slain. They fought up, and they fought down, With swords of temperd steel, But not a drop of Johny's blood In that day he did spill. Out they brought the Itilian, And a greecy ghost was he, But by the edge o Love Johny's sword That Itilian did die. Johny's taen his neat drawn sword, And stript it to the stran: 'Is there any more of your English dogs That wants for to be slain?' 'A clerck, a clerck,' now says the king, 'To sign her tocher free;' 'A priest, a priest,' said Love Johny, 'To mary my dear and me. 'I fought not for your goold, your goold, I fought not for your gear, But I fought for my rose Mary, And vow! I've bought hir dear.'

is up to London gane, Three quarters o the year, And he is up to London gane, The king's banner for to bear. He had na been in fair London A twalmonth and a day, Till the king's ae daughter To Johnie gangs wi child. O word is to the kitchen gane, And word is to the ha, And word is to the king himsel Amang his nobles a'. She has wrote a braid letter, She has wrote it tenderly, And she's wrote a braid letter, To lat her Johnie see That her bower is very high, It's aw weel walled about; Her feet are in the fetters strang, Her body looking out. Her garters are of cauld iron, And they are very cold; Her breist-plate is o the sturdy steel, Instead o the beaten gold. Whan he lookit the letter on, A licht lauch gaed he; But eer he read it til an end, The tear blindit his ee. 'I maun up to London gang, Whatever me betide, And louse that lady out o prison strang; She lay last by my side.' Up spak Johnie's ae best man, That stood by Johnie's knie: Ye'll get twenty four o my best men, To bear ye companie. When Johnie was in his saddle set, A pleasant sicht to see, There was na ae married man In Johnie's companie. The first toun that he cam till, He made the mass be sung; The niest toun that he cam till, He made the bells be rung. When he cam to fair London, He made the drums gae round; The king and his nobles aw They marvelld at the sound. 'Is this the Duke of Winesberry, For James, the Scotish king; Or is it a young gentleman, That wants for to be in?' 'It's na the Duke of Winesberry, Nor James, the Scotish king; But it is a young gentleman, Buneftan is his name.' Up spak the king himsel, An angry man was he: The morn eer I eat or drink Hie hangit sall he be. Up spak Johnie's ae best man, That stood by Johnie's knie: Afore our master he be slain We'll aw fecht till we die. Up spak the king himsel, And up spak he: I have an Italian in my court That will fecht ye manifullie. 'If ye hae an Italian in your court, Fu fain wad I him see; If ye hae an Italian in your court, Ye may bring him here to me.' The king and his nobles aw Went tripping doun the plain, Wi the queen and her maries aw, To see fair Johnie slain. Even anent the prison-door The battle did begin; . . . . . . . . They foucht up, and they foucht doun, Wi swerds o tempered steel, Til Johnie wi his gude braidswerd Made the Italian for to yield. He has kickd him with his foot, And he has kickd him oure the plain: 'Onie mair Italians in your court Ye want for to be slain?' 'A clerk, a clerk,' the king cried, 'To sign her tocher-fee;' 'A priest, a priest,' young Johnie said, 'To marry her and me. 'For I want nane o your gowd, Nor nane o your weel won fee; I only want your fair dochter, I have won her mannfullie.'

O word is to the queen hersel, In parlour whare she sat, That the king's dochter goes wi child To Jock, that little Scot. O word is to the king himsel, And an angry man was he; Says, I will put her in cold prison, And hunger her till she dee. The ladie was laid in cold prison, By the king, a grievous man; And up and starts a little boy, Upon her window-stane. Says, Here's a silken shift, ladye, Your ane hand sewed the sleeve, And ye maun gang to yon greenwud, And of your freends speir na leave. 'My bouer is very hie,' said the lady, 'And it's wondrous hie round about; My feet are lockit in the iron fetters, And how can I get out? 'But I will write a braid letter, And seal it tenderlie, And send it to yon greenwud, And let young Johnie see.' O Johnie's to his father gane, And til him did say, O I maun up to London, father, And fecht for that lady gay. His father spak but ae word, Says, I speak it in time; For an ye gang to London, Johnie, I fear your coming hame. And out and spak anither youth, And a pretty youth was he: Afore I see young Johnie dung I'll fecht for him till I dee. He has wallowd it, he has wallowd it, He's wallowd it again; Cries, Onie mae o your English dogs That wants for to be slain? He set the horn until his mouth, And he has blawn baith loud and shill; The victor's doun to Scotland gane, Richt sair against their will.

'rrS up to England gane, Three quarters o a year; Johnie's up to England gane, The king's banner to bear. He had not in fair England been A month 'twas barely ane, When the fairest lady o the court To Johnie wi child is gane. Word is to the kitchen gane, And word's gane to the ha; Word's gane to the high, high rooms, Among the nobles a'. And word o't to the king is gane, In the chamber where he sat, His only daughter goes wi child To Johnie, the Little Scot. 'O if she be wi child,' he says, 'As I trow weel she be, I'll lock her up in strong prison, And punish her till she dee.' Then she has wrote a long letter, And seald it without a blot, And she has sent it to fair Scotland, To Johnie, the Little Scot. The first line that he did read, In laughter loud was he; But or he gat the hindmost read The tear blindit his ee. 'Get ready for me the black, black steed, Get ready for me the brown, And saddle to me the swiftest horse Eer carried man to town.' Whan he cam to Edinburgh town, He made the bells to ring, And when he cam to merry Carlisle, He made the monks to sing. When he cam to the king's gates, He made his drums beat round; The king bot and his nobles a' They wonderd at the sound. 'Is this [the] King of France,' he cried, 'Or is't the King of Spain? Or is it Johnie, the Little Scot, That's wanting to be slain?' 'It's neither the King of France,' he said, 'Nor is't the King of Spain; But it is Johnie, the Little Scot, That's come to claim his ain.' They foucht it ance, they foucht it twice, They foucht it oure again, Till draps o blood, like draps o rain, War rinning to the plain. Then Johnie drew a nut-brown brand, And strook it oure the plain, Saying, Are there onie mae o your Englishmen That's wanting to be slain? 'A clerk, a clerk,' the king he cried, 'To sign her tocher-fee;' 'A priest, a priest,' then Johnie cried, 'To marry my love and me. 'I'll hae nane o your gowd,' he says, 'As little o your gear; But I'll hae her, my ain true-love, For I'm sure I've coft her dear.'

'rrS a hunting gane, To England's woods sae wild; The fairest flower of all England To Johnnie provd big with child. It's word's going up, and word's going down, Going to the king's bower, That his dear daughter was with child, That was his daily flower. 'If she be with child, As I suppose she be, I'll put her into prison strong, And hunger her till she die.' The king he wrote a letter broad, And sealed it with his hands, And sent it down to Johnnie Scott, In Scotland where he stands. The first line that Johnnie lookd on, A merry man was he; The next line that he lookd on, The salt tears blinded his eye. Out then spoke his old father, Who neer spoke out of time: And if you go to England, son, I doubt your coming home. Out then spoke our Scottish James, Sitting low by Johnnie's knee: Fifteen score of my life-guards Shall ride in your company. When Johnnie came to the king's court He rode it round about, And there he spied his own true-love, From the jail-window looking out. 'Come down, true-love,' said Johnnie Scott, 'And now you'll ride behind me; Before I leave fair England Some life shall die for thee.' 'My feet are in the fetters strong, I'm belted round about; My breastplate is of the stubborn steel, Instead of beaten gold.' When Johnnie came to the king's bower He tinkled at the ring; Who was so ready as the king himself To let proud Johnnie in! 'Are ye the Duke of Marlborough,' he said, 'Or James, our Scottish king? Or are you my bastard son, From Scotland new come home?' 'I'm not the Duke of Marlborough,' he said, 'Nor James, our Scottish king; But I am just a good Scotch lad, And Johnnie Scott's my name.' 'If you be Johnnie Scott,' says he, 'As I suppose you be, The fairest flower in all England Is big with child by thee.' 'If she be big with child,' said he, 'As I hope her to be, I'll make it heir of all my lands, And she my gay lady.' 'O no,' then the king he crys, 'There's no such thing will be; There is an Italian in my court, And by his hands ye'll die.' 'I'll stand my ground,' says Johnnie Scott, 'I'll stand it till I die; I'll stand my ground,' says Johnnie Scott, 'One foot I'd scorn to fly.' When the Italian was brought out, A fearsome sight was he; Between his brows three women's spang, His shoulders was yards three. As Johnnie, being a crafty lad, Well tried at the sword was he, Upon the point of his broad sword He made the Italian die.

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

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

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

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

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. 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. Word unto the kitchen's gane, And word's to the hall, And word unto the court has gane, Among the nobles all. 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. '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.' 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! 'O where will I get a pritty little boy, That will win hoes ahd shoon, That will go doun to yonder lee And tell young Johnie to come?' 'Here am I, a pritty little boy, That will win hoes ahd shoon, And I'll go doun to yonder lee And tell young Johnie to come.' She has wrote a brod letter, And seald it tenderly, And she has sent it to Johnie the Scott, That lay on yonder lee. When Johnie first the letter got, A blith, blith man was be; But or he read the half of it The salt teer blind Johnie's ee. 'I will go to fair England,' says he, 'What ever may betide, For to releave that gay laidy Who last lay by my side.' Up 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 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 uncle, Our Scottish king was he; 'Five hundred of my merry men Shall bear you company.' When Johnie was mounted on his steed He looked wondorous bold, The hair that oer his shouldiers hang Like threeds of yellow gold. '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.' 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.' 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. 'Is this the Duke of Mulberry, Or James the Scottish king? Or is it a young gentleman To England new come home?' 'It is not the Duke of Mulberry, Nor James the Scottish [king]; But is a young gentleman, MacNaughten is his name.' '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.' 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.' '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.' Up then spoke Johnie himself, And he spoke manfully; 'If it please your Majesty, May I this champian see?' The king and all his nobles then Rode down unto the plain, The queen and all [her] gay marries, To see young Johnie 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. 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. 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. 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?' '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.' '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.'

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. 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. 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. Word's gone to the king himsel, In the chamber where he sat, That his eldest daughter goes with child To Lord Jonnie Scott. '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.' '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 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.' '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. 'O here is a shirt, madam, Your awn hand sewed the sleeve; You must gang to good greenwood, Not ask your parents' leave.' '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 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. 'But tell him for to bide away, And not come near to be, For there's a champion in my father's ha Will fight him till he dee.' '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. '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 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. '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.' 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.' But up nd spoke a little boy, Just at Lord Jonnie's knee, 'Before you lose your ain true-love, We'll a' fight till we die.' 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. 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. 'Is this any English gentleman, Or James our Scottish king? Or is it a Scottish gentleman, To England new come in?' 'No, 'tis no English gentleman, Nor James the Scottish king; But is is a Scottish gentleman, Lord Jonnie is my name.' 'If Lord Jonnie be your name, As I suppose it be, I have a champion in my hall Will fight you till you die.' 'O go fetch out that gurrley fellow, Got fetch him out to me; Before I lose my ain true-love, We'll all fight till we die.' Then out and came that gurrly fellow, A gurrly fellow was he, With twa lang sclasps between his eyes, His shoulders there were three. The king and all his nobles stood To see the battle gained; The queen and all her maries stood To see Lord Jonnie slain. The first stroke that Lord Jonnie gave, He wounded very sore; The next stroke that Lord Jonnie gave, The champion could fight no more. 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?' '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. '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.'

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. He had not been in London town But a very little while Till the fairest lady in the court By Johny gaes wi child. 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'. 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! '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.' But Johny had a clever boy, A clever boy was he, O Johny had a clever boy, His name was Gregory. 'O run, my boy, to yon castle, All windows round about, An there you'l see a fair lady, At a window looking out. 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.' Away he ran to yon castle, All windows round about, Where he espy'd a lady fair, At a window looking out. '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.' 'O I'm confin'd in this castle, Though lighted round about; My feet are bound with fetters strong, That I cannot win out. 'My gartens are of stubborn ern, Alas! baith stiff and cold; My breastplate of the sturdy steel, Instead of beaten gold. '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? '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.' 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.' But up then spake a noble lord, A noble lord was he; 'The best of a' my merry men Shall bear you company.' 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.' But Johny turnd him round about, I wat wi meikle pride: 'But I will gae to London town, Whatever may betide.' 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. 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. But when they gaed to London town The trumpets loud were blown, Which made the king and a' his court To marvel at the sound. 'Is this the Duke of Morebattle? Or James the Scottish king?' 'No, sire, I'm a Scottish lord, McNaughten is my name.' 'If you be that young Scottish lord, As I believe you be, The fairest lady in my court She gaes wi child by thee.' 'And if she be with child by me, As I think sae may be, It shall be heir of a' my land, And she my gay lady.' 'O no, O no,' the king reply'd, 'That thing can never be, Fore ere the morn at ten o clock I'll slay thy men an thee. 'A bold Italian in my court Has vanquishd Scotchmen three, And ere the morn at ten o clock I'm sure he will slay thee.' But up the spake young Johny's boy, A clever boy was he; 'O master, ere that you be slain, There's mae be slain than thee.' The king and all his court appeard Neist morning on the plain, The queen and all her ladies came To see youn[g] Johny slain. Out then stepd the Italian bold, And they met on the green; Between his shoulders was an ell, A span between his een. When Johny in the list appeard, Sae young and fair to see, A prayer staw frae ilka heart, A tear frae ilka ee. And lang they fought, and sair they fought, Wi swords o temperd steel, Until the blood like draps o rain Came trickling to their heal. But Johny was a wannle youth, And that he weel did show; For wi a stroke o his broad sword He clove his head in two. 'A priest, a priest!' then Johny cry'd, 'To wed my love and me;' 'A clerk, a clerk!' the king reply'd, 'To write her tocher free.'

Johnny's gane up to fair England Three quarters of a year, And Johny's gane up to fair England, The king's broad banner to bear. He had not been in fair England, Even but a little while, When that the king's ae dochter To Johnny gaes wi child. And word is gane to the kitchen, And word's gane to the ha, And word's gane to the high, high court, Amang the nobles a'. And word is gane unto the king, In the chair where he sat, That his ae dochter's wi bairn To John the little Scott. 'If that I thought she is wi bairn, As I true weel she be, I'll put her up in high prison, And hunger her till she die.' 'There is a silken sark, Johnny, My ain sell sewed the gare, And if ye come to tak me hence Ye need nae taken mare. 'For I am up in high prison, And O but it is cold! My garters are o the cold, cold iron, In place o the beaten gold.' 'Is this the Duke o York?' they said, 'Or James the Scottish king? Or is it John the little Scott, Frae Scotland new come hame?' 'I have an Italian in my bower, This day he has eaten three; Before I either eat or sleep The fourth man ye shall be.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Between his een there was two spans, His shoulders ells were three. Johnny drew forth his good braid glaive And slate it on the plain: 'Is there any more of your Italian dogs That wanteth to be slain?' 'A clerk, a clerk!' her father cry'd 'To register this deed;' 'A priest, a priest!' her mother cry'd, 'To marry them wi speed.'