| |
| O JOHNEY 1 was as brave a knight | |
| As ever sail’d the sea, | |
| An’ he’s done him to the English court, | |
| To serve for meat and fee. | |
| |
| He had nae been in fair England | 5 |
| 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, | 10 |
| 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, | 15 |
| 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. | 20 |
| |
| 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, | 25 |
| 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, | 30 |
| I wish his mother 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, | 35 |
| 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. | 40 |
| |
| Whan he came to yon high castèl, | |
| 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, | 45 |
| 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’ sewd the gare; | 50 |
| You’re bidden come to good green wood, | |
| Love Johney waits you there.’ | |
| |
| She’s turn’d her right and roun’ about, | |
| The tear was in her e’e: | |
| ‘How can I come to my true-love, | 55 |
| 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. | 60 |
| |
| ‘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 | 65 |
| Again to Scotlan’ fair, | |
| An’ soon he reach’d Pitnachton’s tow’rs, | |
| An’ soon found Johney there. | |
| |
| He pat the letter in his han’, | |
| An’ taul him what he sa’, | 70 |
| 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 | 75 |
| That lay last by my side.’ | |
| |
| Then out it spake his father dear, | |
| ‘My son, you are to blame; | |
| An’ gin you’r catch’d on English groun’, | |
| I fear you’ll neer win hame.’ | 80 |
| |
| Then out it spake a valiant knight, | |
| Johney’s best friend was he; | |
| I can commaun’ five hunder men, | |
| An’ I’ll his surety be.’ | |
| |
| The firstin town that they came till, | 85 |
| 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’; | 90 |
| The king but an’ his nobles a’ | |
| Was startl’d at the soun’. | |
| |
| Whan they came to the king’s palace | |
| They rade it roun’ about, | |
| An’ there they saw the king himsel’, | 95 |
| 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?’ | 100 |
| |
| ‘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, | 105 |
| 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’; | 110 |
| ‘Behold five hunder bowmen bold, | |
| Will die to set him free.’ | |
| |
| Then out it spake the king again, | |
| An’ a scornful laugh laugh he; | |
| ‘I have an Italian in my house | 115 |
| 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.’ | 120 |
| |
| 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’, | 125 |
| 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;’ | 130 |
| ‘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, | 135 |
| Whose love has cost her dear.’ | |
