Kinloch Manuscripts, 1, 311.
| 1 |
Johnie's up to England gane,
Three quarters o a year;
Johnie's up to England gane,
The king's banner to bear. |
| 2 |
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. |
| 3 |
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'. |
| 4 |
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. |
| 5 |
'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.' |
| 6 |
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. |
| 7 |
The first line that he did read,
In laughter loud was he;
But or he gat the hindmost read
The tear blindit his ee. |
| 8 |
'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.' |
| 9 |
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. |
| 10 |
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. |
| 11 |
'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?' |
| 12 |
'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.'
* * * * * |
| 13 |
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. |
| 14 |
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? |
| 15 |
'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. |
| 16 |
'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.' |
