The English and Scottish Popular Ballads/Part 5/Chapter 114

he has risen up i the morn, Calls for water to wash his hands; But little knew he that his bloody hounds Were bound in iron bands. bands Were bound in iron bands Johny's mother has gotten word o that, And care-bed she has taen: 'O Johny, for my benison, I beg you'l stay at hame; For the wine so red, and the well baken bread, My Johny shall want nane. 'There are seven forsters at Pickeram Side, At Pickeram where they dwell, And for a drop of thy heart's bluid They wad ride the fords of hell.' Johny he's gotten word of that, And he's turnd wondrous keen; He's put off the red scarlett, And he's put on the Lincolm green. With a sheaf of arrows by his side, And a bent bow in his hand, He's mounted on a prancing steed, And he has ridden fast oer the strand. He's up i Braidhouplee, and down i Bradyslee, And under a buss o broom, And there he found a good dun deer, Feeding in a buss of ling. Johny shot, and the dun deer lap, And she lap wondrous wide, Until they came to the wan water, And he stemd her of her pride. He 'as taen out the little pen-knife, 'Twas full three quarters long, And he has taen out of that dun deer The liver bot and the tongue. They eat of the flesh, and they drank of the blood, And the blood it was so sweet, Which caused Johny and his bloody hounds To fall in a deep sleep. By then came an old palmer, And an ill death may he die! For he's away to Pickram Side, As fast as he can drie. 'What news, what news?' says the Seven Forsters, 'What news have ye brought to me?' 'I have noe news,' the palmer said, 'But what I saw with my eye. 'High up i Bradyslee, low down i Bradisslee, And under a buss of scroggs, O there I spied a well-wight man, Sleeping among his dogs. 'His coat it was of light Lincolm, And his breeches of the same, His shoes of the American leather, And gold buckles tying them.' Up bespake the Seven Forsters, Up bespake they ane and a': O that is Johny o Cockleys Well, And near him we will draw. O the first y stroke that they gae him, They struck him off by the knee; Then up bespake his sister's son: 'O the next 'll gar him die!' 'O some they count ye well-wight men, But I do count ye nane; For you might well ha wakend me, And askd gin I wad be taen. 'The wildest wolf in aw this wood Wad not ha done so by me; She'd ha wet her foot ith wan water, And sprinkled it oer my brae, And if that wad not ha wakend me, She wad ha gone and let me be. 'O bows of yew, if ye be true, In London, where ye were bought, Fingers five, get up belive, Manhuid shall fail me nought.' He has killd the Seven Forsters, He has killd them all but ane, And that wan scarce to Pickeram Side, To carry the bode-words hame. 'Is there never a boy in a' this wood That will tell what I can say; That will go to Cockleys Well, Tell my mither to fetch me away?' There was a boy into that wood, That carried the tidings away, And many ae was the well-wight man At the fetching o Johny away.

foresters in the Braid alow, And they are wondrous fell; To get a drop of Johnny's heart-bluid, They would sink a' their souls to hell. Johnny Cock has gotten word of this, And he is wondrous keen; He['s] custan off the red scarlet, And on the Linkum green. And he is ridden oer muir and muss, And over mountains high, Till he came to yon wan water, And there Johnny Cock did lie. They have ridden oer muir and muss, And over mountains high, Till they met wi' an old palmer, Was walking along the way. 'What news, what news, old palmer? What news have you to me?' 'Yonder is one of the proudest wed sons That ever my eyes did see.' He's taen out a horn from his side, And he blew both loud and shrill, Till a' the fifteen foresters Heard Johnny Cock blaw his horn. They have sworn a bluidy oath, And they swore all in one, That there was not a man among them a' Would blaw such a blast as yon. And they have ridden oer muir and muss, And over mountains high, Till they came to yon wan water, Where Johnny Cock did lie. They have shotten little Johnny Cock, A little above the ee: . . . . . 'For doing the like to me. 'There's not a wolf in a' the wood Woud 'ha' done the like to me; 'She'd ha' dipped her foot in coll water, And strinkled above my ee, And if I would not have waked for that, 'She'd ha' gane and let me be. 'But fingers five, come here, [come here,] And faint heart fail me nought, And silver strings, value me sma things, Till I get all this vengeance rowght!' He ha[s] shot a' the fifteen foresters, Left never a one but one, And he broke the ribs a that ane's side, And let him take tiding home. '. . . a bird in a' the wood Could sing as I could say, It would go in to my mother's bower, And bid her kiss me, and take me away.'

, in a May morning, Sought water to wash his hands, And he is awa to louse his dogs, That's tied wi iron bans. That's tied wi iron bans. His coat it is of the light Lincum green, And his breiks are of the same; His shoes are of the American leather, Silver buckles tying them. 'He' hunted up, and so did 'he' down, Till 'he' came to yon bush of scrogs, And then to yon wan water, Where he slept among his dogs. Johnny Cock out-shot a' the foresters, And out-shot a the three; Out shot a' the foresters, Wounded Johnny aboun the bree. 'Woe be to you, foresters, And an ill death may you die! For there would not a wolf in a' the wood Have done the like to me. 'For' 'twould ha' put its foot in the coll water And ha strinkled it on my bree, And gin that would not have done, Would have gane and lett me be. 'I often took to my mother The dandoo and the roe, But now I'l take to my mother Much sorrow and much woe. 'I often took to my mother The dandoo and the hare, But now I'l take to my mother Much sorrow and much care.'

Johnie raise in a May morning, Calld for water to wash his hands, And he has calld for his gude gray hunds, That lay bund in iron bands. bands That lay bund in iron bands 'Ye'll busk, ye'll busk my noble dogs, Ye'll busk and mak them boun, For I'm going to the Braidscaur hill, To ding the dun deer doun.' Whan Johnie's mither gat word o that, On the very bed she lay, Says, Johnie, for my malison, I pray ye at hame to stay. Your meat sall be of the very, very best, Your drink sall be the same, And ye will win your mither's benison, Gin ye wad stay at hame. But Johnie has cast aff the black velvet, And put on the Lincoln twine, And he is on to gude greenwud, As fast as he could gang. His mither's counsel he wad na tak, He's aff, and left the toun, He's aff unto the Braidscaur hill, To ding the dun deer doun. Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west, And he lookit aneath the sun, And there he spied the dun deer sleeping, Aneath a buss of whun. Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap, And he's scaithed him in the side, And atween the water and the wud He laid the dun deer's pride. They ate sae meikle o the venison, And drank sae meikle o the blude, That Johnie and his twa gray hunds Fell asleep in yonder wud. By ther cam a silly auld man, And a silly auld man was he, And he's aff to the proud foresters, As fast as he could dree. 'What news, what news, my silly auld man? What news? come tell to me:' 'I heard na news, I speird na news But what my een did see. 'As I cam in by Braidisbanks, And doun amang the whuns, The bonniest youngster eer I saw Lay sleepin amang his hunds. 'His cheeks war like the roses red, His neck was like the snaw; His sark was o the holland fine, And his jerkin lac'd fu braw.' Up bespak the first forester, The first forester of a': O this is Johnie o Cockerslee; Come draw, lads, we maun draw. Up bespak the niest forester, The niest forester of a': An this be Johnie o Cockerslee, To him we winna draw. The first shot that they did shoot, They woundit him on the bree; Up bespak the uncle's son, 'The niest will gar him die.' The second shot that eer they shot, It scaithd him near the heart; 'I only wauken,' Johnie cried, 'Whan first I find the smart. 'Stand stout, stand stout, my noble dogs, Stand stout, and dinna flee; Stand fast, stand fast, my gude gray hunds, And we will gar them die.' He has killed six o the proud foresters, And wounded the seventh sair: He laid his leg out owre his steed, Says, I will kill na mair. 'Oh wae befa thee, silly auld man, An ill death may thee dee! Upon thy head be a' this blude, For mine, I ween, is free.'

rose up in a May morning, Calld for water to wash his hands, And he has calld for his gud gray hunds, That lay bund in iron bands. bands That lay bund in iron bands 'Ye'll busk, ye'll busk my noble dogs, Ye'll busk and mak them boun, For I'm gaing to the Broadspear hill, To ding the dun deer doun.' Whan Johnie's mither heard o this, She til her son has gane: 'Ye'll win your mither's benison, Gin ye wad stay at hame. 'Your meat sall be o the very, very best, And your drink o the finest wine; And ye will win your mither's benison, Gin ye wad stay at hame.' His mither's counsel he wad na tak, Nor wad he stay at hame; But he's on to the Broadspear hill, To ding the dun deer doun. Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west, And a little below the sun, And there he spied the dun deer lying sleeping, Aneath a buss o brume. Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap, And he has woundit him in the side, And atween the water and the wud He laid the dun deer's pride. They ate sae meikle o the venison, And drank sae meikle o the blude, That Johnie and his twa gray hunds Fell asleep in yonder wud. By ther cam a silly auld man, A silly auld man was he, And he's aff to the proud foresters, To tell what he did see. 'What news, what news, my silly auld man, What news? come tell to me:' 'Na news, na news,' said the silly auld man, 'But what mine een did see. 'As I cam in by yon greenwud, And doun amang the scrogs, The bonniest youth that ere I saw Lay sleeping atween twa dogs. 'The sark that he had on his back Was o the holland sma, And the coat that he had on his back Was laced wi gowd fu braw.' Up bespak the first forester, The first forester ava: 'An this be Johnie o Cocklesmuir, It's time we war awa.' Up bespak the niest forester, The niest forester ava: 'An this be Johnie o Cocklesmuir, To him we winna draw.' The first shot that they did shoot, They woundit him on the thie; Up bespak the uncle's son, The niest will gar him die. 'Stand stout, stand stout, my noble dogs, Stand stout, and dinna flee; Stand fast, stand fast, my gude gray hunds, And we will mak them dee.' He has killed six o the proud foresters, And he has woundit the seventh sair; He laid his leg out oure his steed, Says, I will kill na mair.

rose up in a May morning, Called for water to wash his hands: 'Gar loose to me the gude graie dogs, That are bound wi iron bands.' When Johnie's mother gat word o that, Her hands for dule she wrang: 'O Johnie, for my bennison, To the grenewood dinna gang! 'Eneugh ye hae o the gude wheat-bread, And eneugh o the blude-red wine, And therefore for nae vennison, Johnie, I pray ye, stir frae hame.' But Johnie's buskt up his gude bend bow, His arrows, ane by ane, And he has gane to Durrisdeer, To hunt the dun deer down. As he came down by Merriemass, And in by the benty line, There has he espied a deer lying, Aneath a bush of ling. Johnie he shot, and the dun deer lap, And he wounded her on the side, But atween the water and the brae, His hounds they laid her pride. And Johnie has bryttled the deer sae weel That he's had out her liver and lungs, And wi these he has feasted his bludey hounds As if they had been erl's sons. They eat sae much o the vennison, And drank sae much o the blude, That Johnie and his bludey hounds Fell asleep as they had been dead. And by there came a silly auld carle, An ill death mote he die! For he's awa to Hislinton, Where the Seven Foresters did lie. 'What news, what news, ye gray-headed carle? What news bring ye to me?' 'I bring nae news,' said the gray-headed carle, 'Save what these eyes did see. 'As I came down by Merriemass, And down amang the scroggs, The bonniest childe that ever I saw Lay sleeping amang his dogs. 'The shirt that was upon his back Was o the holland fine; The doublet which was over that Was o the Lincome twine. 'The buttons that were on his sleeve Were o the gowd sae gude; The gude graie hounds he lay amang, Their mouths were dyed wi blude.' Then out and spak the first forester, The heid man ower them a': If this be Johnie o Breadislee, Nae nearer will we draw. But up and spak the sixth forester, His sister's son was he: If this be Johnie o Breadislee, We soon shall gar him die. The first flight of arrows the foresters shot, They wounded him on the knee; And out and spak the seventh forester, The next will gar him die. Johnie's set his back against an aik, His fute against a stane, And he has slain the Seven Foresters, He has slain them a' but ane. He has broke three ribs in that ane's side, But and his collar bane; He's laod him twa-fald ower his steed, Bade him carry the tidings hame. 'O is there na a bonnie bird Can sing as I can say, Could flee away to my mother's bower, And tell to fetch Johnie away?' The starling flew to his mother's window-stane, It whistled and it sang, And aye the ower-word o the tune Was, Johnie tarries lang! They made a rod o the hazel-bush, Another o the slae-thorn tree, And mony, mony were the men At fetching our Johnie. Then out and spake his auld mother, And fast her teirs did fa; Ye wad nae be warnd, my son Johnie, Frae the hunting to bide awa. 'Aft hae I brought to Breadislee The less gear and the mair, But I neer brought to Breadislee What grieved my heart sae sair. 'But wae betyde that silly auld carle, An ill death shall he die; For the highest tree on Merriemass Shall be his morning's fee.' Now Johnie's gude bend bow is broke, And his gude graie dogs are slain, And his bodie lies dead in Durrisdeer, And his hunting it is done.

, on a May mornin, Called for water to wash his hands, An there he spied his twa blude-hounds, Waur bound in iron bands. bands Waur bound in iron bands Johnnie's taen his gude bent bow, Bot an his arrows kene, An strippit himsel o the scarlet red, An put on the licht Lincoln green. Up it spak Johnnie's mither, An' a wae, wae woman was she: I beg you bide at hame, Johnnie, I pray be ruled by me. Baken bread ye sall nae lack, An wine you sall lack nane; Oh Johnnie, for my benison, I beg you bide at hame! He has made a solemn aith, Atween the sun and the mune, That he wald gae to the gude green wood, The dun deer to ding doon. He luiket east, he luiket wast, An in below the sun, An there he spied the dun deer, Aneath a bush o brume. The firsten shot that Johnnie shot, He wounded her in the side; The nexten shot that Johnnie shot, I wat he laid her pride. He's eaten o the venison, An drunken o the blude, Until he fell as sound asleep As though he had been dead. Bye there cam a silly auld man, And a silly auld man was he, An he's on to the Seven Foresters, As fast as he can flee. 'As I cam in by yonder haugh, An in among the scroggs, The bonniest boy that ere I saw Lay sleepin atween his dogs.' The firsten shot that Johnnie shot, He shot them a' but ane, An he flang him owre a milk-white steed, Bade him bear tidings hame.

raise up in a May morning, Calld for water to wash his hands, And he's commant his bluidy dogs To be loosd frae their iron bands. bands To be loosd frae their iron bands 'Win up, win up, my bluidy dogs, Win up, and be unbound, And we will on to Bride's Braidmuir, And ding the dun deer down.' When his mother got word o that, Then she took bed and lay; Says, Johnnie, my son, for my blessing, Ye'll stay at hame this day. There's baken bread and brown ale Shall be at your command; Ye'll win your mither's blythe blessing, To the Bride's Braidmuir nae gang. Mony are my friends, mither, Though thousands were my foe; Betide me life, betide me death, To the Bride's Braidmuir I'll go. The sark that was on Johnnie's back Was o the cambric fine; The belt that was around his middle Wi pearlins it did shine. The coat that was upon his back Was o the linsey brown; And he's awa to the Bride's Braidmuir, To ding the dun deer down. Johnnie lookd east, Johnnie lookd west, And turnd him round and round, And there he saw the king's dun deer, Was cowing the bush o brune. Johnnie shot, and the dun deer lap, He wounded her in the side; Between him and yon burnie-bank, Johnnie he laid her pride. He ate sae muckle o the venison, He drank sae muckle bleed, Till he lay down between his hounds, And slept as he'd been dead. But by there came a stane-auld man, An ill death mat he dee! For he is on to the Seven Foresters, As fast as gang could he. 'What news, what news, ye stane-auld man? What news hae ye brought you wi?' 'Nae news, nae news, ye seven foresters, But what your eyes will see. 'As I gaed i yon rough thick hedge, Amang yon bramly scroggs, The fairest youth that eer I saw Lay sleeping between his dogs. 'The sark that was upon his back Was o the cambric fine; The belt that was around his middle Wi pearlins it did shine.' Then out it speaks the first forester: Whether this be true or no, O if it's Johnnie o Cocklesmuir, Nae forder need we go. Out it spake the second forester, A fierce fellow was he: Betide me life, betide me death, This youth we'll go and see. As they gaed in yon rough thick hedge, And down yon forest gay, They came to that very same place Where John o Cockis he lay. The first an shot they shot at him, They wounded him in the thigh; Out spake the first forester's son: By the next shot he maun die. 'O stand ye true, my trusty bow, And stout steel never fail! Avenge me now on all my foes, Who have my life i bail.' Then Johnnie killd six foresters, And wounded the seventh sair; Then drew a stroke at the stane-auld man, That words he neer spake mair. His mother's parrot in window sat, She whistled and she sang, And aye the owerturn o the note, 'Young Johnnie's biding lang.' When this reached the king's own ears, It grievd him wondrous sair; Says, I'd rather they'd hurt my subjects all Than Johnnie o Cocklesmuir. 'But where are all my wall-wight men, That I pay meat and fee, Will gang the morn to Johnnie's castle, See how the cause may be.' Then he's calld Johnnie up to court, Treated him handsomelie, And now to hunt in the Bride's Braidmuir, For life has license free.

rose up in a May morning, Called for water to wash his hands, hands And he is awa to Braidisbanks, To ding the dun deer down. down To ding the dun deer down Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west, And it's lang before the sun, And there he did spy the dun deer lie, Beneath a bush of brume. Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap, And he's woundit her in the side; Out then spake his sister's son, 'And the neist will lay her pride.' They've eaten sae meikle o the gude venison, And they've drunken sae muckle o the blude, That they've fallen into as sound a sleep As gif that they were dead. 'It's doun, and it's doun, and it's doun, doun, And it's doun amang the scrogs, And there ye'll espy twa bonnie boys lie, Asleep amang their dogs.' They waukened Johnie out o his sleep, And he's drawn to him his coat: 'My fingers five, save me alive, And a stout heart fail me not!'

coat was o the scarlet red, His vest was o the same; His stockings were o the worset lace, And buckles tied to the same. Out then spoke one, out then spoke two, Out then spoke two or three; Out spoke the master forester, 'It's Johnie o Braidislee. 'If this be true, thou silly auld man, Which you tell unto me, Five hundred pounds of yearly rent It shall not pay your fee.' 'O wae be to you seven foresters! I wonder ye dinna think shame, You being seven sturdy men, And I but a man my lane. 'Now fail me not, my ten fingers, That are both long and small! Now fail me not, my noble heart! For in thee I trust for all. 'Now fail me not, my good bend bow, That was in London coft! Now fail me not, my golden string, Which my true lover wrocht!' He has tossed him up, he has tossed him doun, He has broken his collar-bone; He has tied him to his bridle reins, Bade him carry the tidings home.

' 's no a bird in a' this foreste Will do as meikle for me As dip its wing in the wan water An straik it on my ee-bree.'

aye at ilka ae mile's end She fand a cat o clay, An written upon the back o it 'Tak your son Johnnie Brod away.'

'O busk ye, O busk ye, my three bluidy hounds, O busk ye, and go with me, For there's seven foresters in yon forest, And them I want to see.' see And them I want to see