Jamieson-Brown Manuscript, fol. 5.
| 1 |
O Johney 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. |
| 2 |
He had nae been in fair England
But yet a little while,
Untill the kingis ae daughter
To johney proves wi chil. |
| 3 |
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. |
| 4 |
'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.' |
| 5 |
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. |
| 6 |
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. |
| 7 |
'O whare will I get a bonny boy,
To rin my errand soon,
That will rin into fair England,
An haste him back again?' |
| 8 |
O up it starts a bonny boy,
Gold yallow was his hair,
I wish his mither meickle joy,
His bonny love mieckle mair. |
| 9 |
'O here am I, a bonny boy,
Will rin your errand soon;
I will gang into fair England,
An come right soon again.' |
| 10 |
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. |
| 11 |
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. |
| 12 |
'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. |
| 13 |
'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.' |
| 14 |
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? |
| 15 |
'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. |
| 16 |
'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.' |
| 17 |
Then quickly ran the bonny boy
Again to Scotlan fair,
An soon he reachd Pitnachton's towrs,
An soon found Johney there. |
| 18 |
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. |
| 19 |
'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.' |
| 20 |
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. |
| 21 |
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. |
| 22 |
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. |
| 23 |
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. |
| 24 |
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. |
| 25 |
'Is this the Duke o Albany,
Or James, the Scottish king?
Or are ye some great foreign lord,
That's come a visiting?' |
| 26 |
'I'm nae the Duke of Albany,
Nor James, the Scottish king;
But I'm a valiant Scottish knight,
Pitnachton is my name.' |
| 27 |
'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.' |
| 28 |
Then out it spake the valiant knight
That came brave Johney wi;
Behold five hunder bowmen bold,
Will die to set him free. |
| 29 |
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. |
| 30 |
'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.' |
| 31 |
Then out it came that Italian,
An a gurious ghost was he;
Upo the point o Johney's sword
This Italian did die. |
| 32 |
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?' |
| 33 |
'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. |
| 34 |
'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.' |
