Appendix

Appendix

#A# 26 And aft she cried, ‘Ohon! alas! alas! A sair heart’s ill to win; I wan a sair heart when I married him, And the day it’s well returned again.’

My friend the late Mr Norval Clyne thought that this obscure stanza might perhaps be cleared up by the following verses, communicated to him in 1873 by the Rev. George Sutherland, Episcopal clergyman at Tillymorgan, Aberdeenshire.

YOUNG TOLQUHON

Word has come to Young Tolquhon, In his chamber where he lay, That Sophia Hay, his first fair love, Was wedded and away.

‘Sophia Hay, Sophia Hay, My love, Sophia Hay, I wish her anes as sair a heart As she’s gien me the day.

‘She thinks she has done me great wrang, But I don’t think it so; I hope to live in quietness When she shall live in woe.

‘She’ll live a discontented life Since she is gone from me; Ower seen, ower seen, a wood o green Will shortly cover me.

‘When I am dead and in my grave, Cause write upon me so: “Here lies a lad who died for love, And who can blame my woe.”’

Mr Sutherland wrote: This fragment I took down from the recitation of my mother, twenty or twenty-five years ago. She was born in 1790, and her great-grandmother was a servant of the last Forbes of Tolquhon. She had a tradition that Sophia Hay was one of the Errol family, and married Lord John Gordon, who was burned at Frendraught. Mr Clyne remarked: The Young Tolquhon at the time of this marriage, about 1628, was Alexander Forbes, eldest son of William Forbes of Tolquhon. Alexander is recorded to have died without issue, and the following additional particulars, singularly suggestive of a determination on the unfortunate lover’s part to renounce the world, have been communicated to me by Dr John Stuart. In 1631 William Forbes granted a charter of the lands of Tolquhon to his second son Walter and his heirs male, and in 1632 another deed of the same sort to Walter, with the express consent of Alexander, his elder brother. In 1641 Alexander is supposed to have been dead, as Walter is then styled “of Tolquhon.” The lady’s somewhat enigmatical exclamation,

‘I wan a sair heart when I married him, And the day it’s well returned again,’

may have its explanation in the words of Young Tolquhon,

‘I wish her anes as sair a heart As she’s gien me the day.’

Mr Clyne did not fail to observe that Father Blakhal has recorded of Lady Melgum that he had often heard her say that she had never loved anybody but her husband, and never would love another (Narration, p. 92). This testimony, if not decisive, may be considered not less cogent as to the matter of fact than anything in ‘Young Tolquhon’ to the contrary. But it may be that stanza 24 became attached to the Frendraught ballad in consequence of the coexistence of this or some similar ballad of Young Tolquhon.

197

JAMES GRANT

Motherwelll’s MS., p. 470, communicated apparently by Buchan; ‘The Gordons and the Grants,’ Buchan’s Ballads

of the North of Scotland, II, 220.

There was an implacable feud between the Grants of Ballindalloch and the Grants of Carron, “for divers ages,” Sir Robert Gordon says, certainly for ninety years after 1550. This fragment has to do with the later stage of their enmity. In 1628, John Grant of Ballindalloch killed John Grant of Carron. James Grant of Carron, uncle of the slain man, burnt all the corn, barns, and byres of Ballindalloch young and old, and took to the hills (1630). The Ballindallocbs complained to Murray, the lieutenant, and he, “to gar ane devil ding another,” set the Clanchattan upon James Grant. They laid siege to a house where he was with a party of his men; he made his way out, was pursued, and was taken after receiving eleven arrow-wounds. When he was well enough to travel, he was sent to Edinburgh, and, as everybody supposed, to his death; but after a confinement of more than a year he broke ward (October, 1632). Large sums were offered for him, alive or dead; but James Grant was hard to keep and hard to catch, and in November, 1633, he began to kythe again in the north. A gang of the forbidden name of McGregor, who had been brought into the country by Ballindalloch to act against James Grant, beset him in a small house in Carron where he was visiting his wife, having only his son and one other man with him; but he defended himself with the spirit of another Cloudesly, shot the captain, and got off to the bog with his men.[29]

“The year of God one thousand six hundred thirty-six, some of the Marquis of Huntly’s followers and servants did invade the rebel James Grant and some of his associates, hard by Strathbogy. They burnt the house wherein he was, but, the night being dark and windy, he and his brother, Robert Grant, escaped.”[30]

This last escapade of James Grant may perhaps be the one to which this fragment has reference, though Ballindalloch was not personally engaged in the assault on the house, and I know of no Douglas having sheltered Grant of Carron. One almost wonders that this mettlesome and shifty outlaw was not celebrated in a string of ballads.

Early in 1639, James Grant got his peace from the king; later in the year, he joined the “barons” at Aberdeen with five hundred men, and in 1640, we are told, “he purchased his remission orderly and went home to his own country peaceably (against all men’s expectation, being such a blood-shedder and cruel oppressor) after he had escaped so many dangers.”[31]

* * * * *

1 ‘Away with you, away with you, James de Grant! And, Douglas, ye’ll be slain; For Baddindalloch’s at your gates, With many brave Highland men.’

2 ‘Baddindalloch has no feud at me, And I have none at him; Cast up my gates baith broad and wide, Let Baddindalloch in.’

3 ‘James de Grant has made a vaunt, And leaped the castle-wa; But, if he comes this way again, He’ll no win sae well awa.

4 ‘Take him, take him, brave Gordons, O take him, fine fellows a’! If he wins but ae mile to the Highland hills, He’ll defy you Gordons a’.’

* * * * *

As printed by Buchan:

1^3, 2^{1,4}. Balnadallach.

1^4. man.

2^4 come in.

3^4. nae won.

4^3. on the Highland hill.

198

BONNY JOHN SETON

#A.# ‘Bonny John Seton,’ Maidment’s North Countrie Garland, p. 15; Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 161; Maidment’s Scotish Ballads and Songs, Historical and Traditionary, I, 280.

#B.# ‘The Death of John Seton,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 136.

Buchan had another copy, sent him in manuscript by a young lady in Aberdeen, in which the Earl Marischal was made prominent: Ballads, II, 321. Aytoun, I, 139, had a copy which had been annotated by C. K. Sharpe, and from this he seems to have derived a few variations. The New Deeside Guide [1832], p. 5 (nominally by James Brown, but written by Dr Joseph Robertson), gives #A#, with a few trifling improvements which seem to be editorial.

#A, B, 1–8.# The ballad is accurate as to the date, not commonly a good sign for such things. On Tuesday, the eighteenth of June, 1639, Montrose began an attack on the bridge of Dee, which had been fortified and manned by the royalists of Aberdeen to stop his advance on the city. The bridge was bravely defended that day and part of the next by Lieutenant-Colonel Johnston (not Middleton; Middleton was of the assailants). The young Lord of Aboyne, just made the king’s lieutenant in the north, had a small body of horse on the north side of the river. Montrose’s cavalry were sent up the south side as if to cross (though there was no ford), and Aboyne’s were moved along the opposite bank to resist a passage. This exposed the latter to Montrose’s cannon, and the Covenanters let fly some shot at them, one of which killed “a gallant gentleman, John Seton of Pitmeddin, most part of his body above the saddle being carried away.” Johnston’s leg was crushed by stones brought down from one of the turrets of the bridge by a cannon-shot, and he had to be carried off. The loss of their commander and the disappearance of Aboyne’s horse discouraged the now small party who were holding the bridge, and they abandoned it. Aboyne rode off, and left Aberdeen to to shift for itself.[32]

#A 9–12, B 9–13.# The spoiling of John Seton by order of Sir William Forbes of Craigievar is not noticed by Gordon and Spalding, though other matters of not greater proportion are.

#A 13–15.# The reference is to the affair called the Raid of Stonehaven, June 15, three days before that of the Bridge of Dee. Aboyne’s Highlanders, a thousand or more, were totally unused to artillery, and a few shots from Montrose’s cannon lighting among them so frightened them that “they did run off, all in a confusion, never looking behind them, till they were got into a moss.”[33]

#B 14–17.# “When Montrose entered Aberdeen,” says James Gordon, “the Earl Marischal and Lord Muchall pressed him to burn the town, and urged him with the Committee of Estates’ warrant for that effect. He answered that it were best to advise a night upon it, since Aberdeen was the London of the north, and would prejudice themselves by want of it. So it was taken to consideration for that night, and next day the Earl Marischal and Lord Muchall came protesting he would spare it. He answered he was desirous so to do, but durst not except they would be his warrant. Whereupon they drew up a paper, signed with both their hands, declaring that they had hindered it, and promising to interpose with the Committee of Estates for him. Yet the next year, when he was made prisoner and accused, this was objected to Montrose, that he had not burned Aberdeen, as he had orders from the Committee of Estates. Then he produced Marischal and Muchall’s paper, which hardly satisfied the exasperated committee.”[34]

* * * * *

A

Maidment’s North Countrie Garland, p. 15.

1 Upon the eighteenth day of June, A dreary day to see, The southern lords did pitch their camp Just at the bridge of Dee.

2 Bonny John Seton of Pitmeddin, A bold baron was he, He made his testament ere he went out, The wiser man was he.

3 He left his land to his young son, His lady her dowry, A thousand crowns to his daughter Jean, Yet on the nurse’s knee.

4 Then out came his lady fair, A tear into her ee; Says, Stay at home, my own good lord, O stay at home with me!

5 He looked over his left shoulder, Cried, Souldiers, follow me! O then she looked in his face, An angry woman was she: ‘God send me back my steed again, But neer let me see thee!’

6 His name was Major Middleton That manned the bridge of Dee, His name was Colonel Henderson That let the cannons flee.

7 His name was Major Middleton That manned the bridge of Dee, And his name was Colonel Henderson That dung Pitmeddin in three.

8 Some rode on the black and grey, And some rode on the brown, But the bonny John Seton Lay gasping on the ground.

9 Then bye there comes a false Forbes, Was riding from Driminere; Says, Here there lies a proud Seton; This day they ride the rear.

10 Cragievar said to his men, ‘You may play on your shield; For the proudest Seton in all the lan This day lies on the field.’

11 ‘O spoil him! spoil him!’ cried Cragievar, ‘Him spoiled let me see; For on my word,’ said Cragievar, ‘He had no good will at me.’

12 They took from him his armour clear, His sword, likewise his shield; Yea, they have left him naked there, Upon the open field.

13 The Highland men, they’re clever men At handling sword and shield, But yet they are too naked men To stay in battle field.

14 The Highland men are clever men At handling sword or gun, But yet they are too naked men To bear the cannon’s rung.

15 For a cannon’s roar in a summer night Is like thunder in the air; There’s not a man in Highland dress Can face the cannon’s fire.

* * * * *

B

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 136.

1 It fell about the month of June, On Tuesday, timouslie, The northern lords hae pitchd their camps Beyond the brig o Dee.

2 They ca’ed him Major Middleton That mand the brig o Dee; They ca’ed him Colonel Henderson That gard the cannons flee.

3 Bonny John Seton o Pitmedden, A brave baron was he; He made his tesment ere he gaed, And the wiser man was he.

4 He left his lands unto his heir, His ladie her dowrie; Ten thousand crowns to Lady Jane, Sat on the nourice knee.

5 Then out it speaks his lady gay, ‘O stay my lord wi me; For word is come, the cause is won Beyond the brig o Dee.’

6 He turned him right and round about, And a light laugh gae he; Says, I wouldna for my lands sae broad I stayed this night wi thee.

7 He’s taen his sword then by his side, His buckler by his knee, And laid his leg in oer his horse, Said, Sodgers, follow me!

8 So he rade on, and further on, Till to the third mile corse; The Covenanters’ cannon balls Dang him aff o his horse.

9 Up then rides him Cragievar, Said, Wha’s this lying here? It surely is the Lord o Aboyne, For Huntly was not here.

10 Then out it speaks a fause Forbes, Lived up in Druminner; ‘My lord, this is a proud Seton, The rest will ride the thinner.’

11 ‘Spulyie him, spulyie him,’ said Craigievar, ‘O spulyie him, presentlie; For I could lay my lugs in pawn He had nae gude will at me.’

12 They’ve taen the shoes frae aff his feet, The garters frae his knee, Likewise the gloves upon his hands; They’ve left him not a flee.

13 His fingers they were sae sair swelld The rings would not come aff; They cutted the grips out o his ears, Took out the gowd signots.

14 Then they rade on, and further on, Till they came to the Crabestane, And Craigievar, he had a mind To burn a’ Aberdeen.

15 Out it speaks the gallant Montrose, Grace on his fair body! ‘We winna burn the bonny burgh, We’ll even laet it be.’

16 Then out it speaks the gallant Montrose, ‘Your purpose I will break; We winna burn the bonny burgh, We’ll never build its make.

17 ‘I see the women and their children Climbing the craigs sae hie; We’ll sleep this night in the bonny burgh, And even lat it be.’

* * * * *

#B.#

11^{1,2}. Spulzie.

Readings in Aytoun which may have been derived from Sharpe:

#A.#

4^2. The tear stood in.

8^3. But bonny John Seton o Pitmeddin.

#B.#

8^3. And there the Covenanters’ shot.

8^4. It dang him frae his.

10^2. Was riding frae D.

10^3. This is the proudest Seton of a’.

14^3. And wha sae ready as Craigievar.

15^1. Then up and spake the gude.

16^2. As he rade owre the field.

16^3. Why should we burn the bonny.

16^4. When its like we couldna build.

Readings in The New Deeside Guide:

#A.#

1^3. lords their pallions pitched.

2^2. A baron bold.

3^1. To his.

4^1. and came.

5^5. your steed.

11^4. He bore: to me.

15^4. cannon’s rair.

199

THE BONNIE HOUSE O AIRLIE

#A. a.# Sharpe’s Ballad Book, p. 59, No 20. #b.# ‘The Bonnie House o Airly,’ Finlay’s Ballads, II, 25. #c.# Skene MS., pp. 28, 54. #d.# ‘The Bonny House of Airly,’ Campbell MSS, II, 113. #e.# ‘The Bonny House of Airly,’ an Aberdeen stall-copy, without date. #f.# ‘The Bonny House o Airly,’ another Aberdeen stall-copy, without date. #g.# Hogg’s Jacobite Relics, II, 152. #h.# Kinloch MSS, VI, 5, one stanza.

#B.# Kinloch MSS, V, 273.

#C. a.# ‘The Bonny House of Airley,’ Kinloch MSS, V, 205. #b.# ‘Young Airly,’ Cromek’s Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 226. #c.# ‘The Bonny House o Airlie,’ Smith’s Scottish Minstrel, II, 2. #d.# ‘The Bonny House o Airlie,’ Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, II, 276, 296.

#D.# Kinloch MSS, V, 106; Kinloch MSS, VII, 207; Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 104.

The earliest copy of this ballad hitherto found is a broadside of about 1790 (a hundred and fifty years later than the event celebrated), which Finlay combined with two others, derived from recitation, for his edition (#A b#). #C b#, #c#, #d#, are not purely traditional texts, and #A g# has borrowed some stanzas from #C b#. #C b# is transcribed into the Campbell MSS, I, 184. Aytoun’s edition, 1859, II, 270, is compounded from #A a#, #A b#, with half a dozen words changed, and it is not quite clear how the editor means to be understood when he says, “the following, I have reason to believe, is the original.”

One summer day, Argyle, who has a quarrel with Airlie, sets out to plunder the castle of that name. The lord of the place is at the time with the king. Argyle (something in the style of Captain Car) summons Lady Ogilvie to come down and kiss him; else he will not leave a standing stone in Airlie. This she will not do, for all his threat. Argyle demands of the lady where her dowry is (as if it were tied up in a handkerchief). She gives no precise information: it is east and west, up and down the water-side. Sharp search is made, and the dowry is found in a plum-tree (balm-tree, cherry-tree, palm-tree, #A a#, #b#, #d#, #e#, #g#). Argyle lays or leads the lady down somewhere while the plundering goes forward. She tells him that no Campbell durst have taken in hand such a thing if her lord had been at home. She has born seven (ten) sons, and is expecting another; but had she as many more (a hundred more), she would give them all to King Charles.

In #A d# 7 Lady Ogilvie asks the favor of Argyle that he will take her to a high hill-top that she may not see the burning of Airlie; the passage is of course corrupt. In #A g# 7 she more sensibly asks that her face may not be turned that way. In #C a# 5, 6, #b# 5, 6, the rational request is made that she may be taken to some dark dowey glen[35] to avoid the sight; but Argyle leads her “down to the top of the town,” and bids her look at the plundering, #a#; sets her upon a bonnie knowe-tap, and bids her look at Airlie fa’ing, #b#. #D# 7, 8, goes a step further. The lady asks that she may be thrown over the castle-wall rather than see the plundering; Argyle lifts her up ‘sae rarely’ and throws her over, and she never saw it.

In #C a# 8 Argyle would have Lord Airlie informed that one kiss from his lady would have saved all the plundering. In #D# 5 he tells Lady Ogilvie that if she had surrendered on the first demand there would have been no plundering; and this assurance he repeats to ‘Captain’ Ogilvie, whom he meets on his way home.

#A b# 2, #D# 1, 2, represent Argyle to be acting under the orders of Montrose, or in concert with him.

A piece in five or six stanzas which appears, with variations, in Cromek’s Remains, p. 195, Hogg’s Jacobite Relics, II, 151, Cunningham’s Songs of Scotland, III, 218, under the caption of ‘Young Airly’ (the title of #C b# also in Cromek), moves forward the burning of Airlie to “the 45;” not very strangely (if there is anything traditional in these verses), when we consider the prominence of the younger Lord Ogilvie and his wife among the supporters of Charles Edward. (The first three of Cromek’s stanzas are transcribed into Campbell MSS, I, 187.) No doubt the Charlie and Prince Charlie of some versions of our ballad were understood by the reciters to be the Young Chevalier.

The Committee of Estates, June 12, 1640, gave commission to the Earl of Argyle to rise in arms against certain people, among whom was the Earl of Airlie, as enemies to religion and unnatural to their country, and to pursue them with fire and sword until they should be brought to their duty or else utterly subdued and rooted out. The Earl of Airlie had gone to England, fearing lest he should be pressed to subscribe the Covenant, and had left his house to the keeping of his eldest son, Lord Ogilvie. Montrose, who had signed the commission as one of the Committee, but was not inclined to so strenuous proceedings, invested Airlie, forced a surrender, and put a garrison in the place to hold it for the “public.” Argyle did not interpret his commission in this mild way. He took Airlie in hand in the beginning of July, and caused both this house and that of Forthar, belonging to Lord Ogilvie, to be pillaged, burned, and demolished. Thereafter he fell upon the lands both of the proprietor and his tenantry, and carried off or destroyed “their whole goods, gear, corns, cattle, horse, nolt, sheep,” and left nothing but bare bounds.

According to one writer, Lady Ogilvie was residing at Forthar, and, being big with child, asked leave of Argyle to stay till she was brought to bed; but this was not allowed, and she was put out, though she knew not whither to go. By another account, Argyle accused Montrose of having suffered the lady to escape.[36]

The ballad puts Lady Airlie in command of the house or castle, but none of the family were there at the time it was sacked. She is called Lady Margaret in #A b# 4, but her name was Elizabeth. The earl, James, is called the great Sir John in #C a# 9. #A# 10 and the like elsewhere are applicable to the younger Lady Ogilvie in respect to the unborn child. Chambers says that Lady Airlie had three children and Lady Ogilvie but one, and “the poet must be wrong.” “The poet,” besides being inaccurate, does not tell the same story in all the versions, and this inconsistency is again observable in ‘Geordie,’ #A# 9, #B# 18, #C# 8, etc.

‘Gleyd Argyle’ is “generally described as of mean stature, with red hair and squinting eyes.”[37] His morals appear to some disadvantage again in ‘Geordie,’ #I a# 23.

* * * * *

A

#a.# Sharpe’s Ballad Book, p. 59, No 20, 1823. #b.# Finlay’s Ballads, II, 25, 1808, from two recited copies and “one printed about twenty years ago on a single sheet.” #c.# Skene MS., pp. 28, 54, from recitation in the north of Scotland, 1802–3. #d.# Campbell MSS, II, 113, probably from a stall-copy. #e, f.# Aberdeen stall copies, “printed for the booksellers.” #g.# Hogg’s Jacobite Relics, II, 152, No 76, “Cromek and a street ballad collated, 1821.” #h.# Kinloch MSS, VI, 5, one stanza, taken down from an old woman’s recitation by J. Robertson.

1 It fell on a day, and a bonny simmer day, When green grew aits and barley, That there fell out a great dispute Between Argyll and Airlie.

2 Argyll has raised an hunder men, An hunder harnessd rarely, And he’s awa by the back of Dunkell, To plunder the castle of Airlie.

3 Lady Ogilvie looks oer her bower-window. And oh, but she looks weary! And there she spy’d the great Argyll, Come to plunder the bonny house of Airlie.

4 ‘Come down, come down, my Lady Ogilvie, Come down, and kiss me fairly:’ ‘O I winna kiss the fause Argyll, If he should na leave a standing stane in Airlie.’

5 He hath taken her by the left shoulder, Says, Dame where lies thy dowry? ‘O it’s east and west yon wan water side, And it’s down by the banks of the Airlie.’

6 They hae sought it up, they hae sought it down, They hae sought it maist severely, Till they fand it in the fair plumb-tree That shines on the bowling-green of Airlie.

7 He hath taken her by the middle sae small, And O but she grat sairly! And laid her down by the bonny burn-side, Till they plundered the castle of Airlie.

8 ‘Gif my gude lord war here this night, As he is with King Charlie, Neither you, nor ony ither Scottish lord, Durst avow to the plundering of Airlie.

9 ‘Gif my gude lord war now at hame, As he is with his king, There durst nae a Campbell in a’ Argyll Set fit on Airlie green.

10 ‘Ten bonny sons I have born unto him, The eleventh neer saw his daddy; But though I had an hundred mair, I’d gie them a’ to King Charlie.’

* * * * *

B

Kinloch MSS, V, 273.

1 It fell on a day, a clear summer day, When the corn grew green and bonny, That there was a combat did fall out ‘Tween Argyle and the bonny house of Airly.

2 Argyle he did raise five hundred men, Five hundred men, so many, And he did place them by Dunkeld, Bade them shoot at the bonny house of Airly.

3 The lady looked over her own castle-wa, And oh, but she looked weary! And there she espied the gleyed Argyle, Come to plunder the bonny house of Airly.

4 ‘Come down the stair now, Madam Ogilvie, And let me kiss thee kindly; Or I vow and I swear, by the sword that I wear, That I winna leave a standing stone at Airly.’

5 ‘O how can I come down the stair, And how can I kiss thee kindly, Since you vow and you swear, by the sword that you wear, That you winna leave a standing stone on Airly?’

6 ‘Come down the stair then, Madam Ogilvie, And let me see thy dowry;’ ‘O ’tis east and it is west, and ’tis down by yon burn-side, And it stands at the planting sae bonny.

7 ‘But if my brave lord had been at hame this day, As he is wi Prince Charlie, There durst na a Campbell in all Scotland Set a foot on the bowling-green of Airly

8 ‘O I hae born him seven, seven sons, And an eighth neer saw his daddy, And tho I were to bear him as many more, They should a’ carry arms for Prince Charlie.’

* * * * *

C

#a.# Kinloch MSS, V, 205, recited by John Rae. #b.# Cromek’s Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 226, 1810. #c.# Smith’s Scottish Minstrel, II, 2. #d.# Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, II, 276, “from the recitation of a relative.”

1 It fell on a day, on a bonny summer day, When the corn grew green and yellow, That there fell out a great dispute Between Argyle and Airley.

2 The great Argyle raised five hundred men, Five hundred men and many, And he has led them down by the bonny Dunkeld, Bade them shoot at the bonny house of Airley.

3 The lady was looking oer her castle-wa, And O but she looked weary! And there she spied the great Argyle, Came to plunder the bonny house of Airley.

4 ‘Come down stairs now, Madam,’ he says, ‘Now come down and kiss me fairly;’ ‘I’ll neither come down nor kiss you,’ she says, ‘Tho you should na leave a standing stane in Airley.’

5 ‘I ask but one favour of you, Argyle, And I hope you’ll grant me fairly To tak me to some dark dowey glen, That I may na see the plundering of Airley.’

6 He has taen her by the left shoulder, And O but she looked weary! And he has led her down to the top of the town, Bade her look at the plundering of Airley.

7 ‘Fire on, fire on, my merry men all, And see that ye fire clearly; For I vow and I swear by the broad sword I wear That I winna leave a standing stane in Airley.

8 ‘You may tell it to your lord,’ he says, ‘You may tell it to Lord Airley, That one kiss o his gay lady Wad hae sav’d all the plundering of Airley.’

9 ‘If the great Sir John had been but at hame, As he is this night wi Prince Charlie, Neither Argyle nor no Scottish lord Durst hae plundered the bonny house of Airley.

10 ‘Seven, seven sons hae I born unto him, And the eight neer saw his dady, And altho I were to have a hundred more, The should a’ draw their sword for Prince Charlie.’

* * * * *

D

Kinloch MSS, V, 106, in the handwriting of James Beattie, and from the recitation of Elizabeth Beattie.

1 O gleyd Argyll has written to Montrose To see gin the fields they were fairly, And to see whether he sh_oul_d stay at hame, ‘Or come to plunder bonnie Airly.

2 Then great Montrose has written to Argyll And that the fields they were fairly, And not to keep his men at hame, But to come and plunder bonnie Airly.

3 The lady was looking oer her castle-wa, She was carrying her courage sae rarely, And there she spied him gleyd Arguill, Was coming for to plunder bonnie Airly.

4 ‘Wae be to ye, gleyd Argyll! And are ye there sae rarely? Ye might hae kept your men at hame, And not come to plunder bonnie Airly.’

5 ‘And wae be to ye, Lady Ogilvie! And are ye there sae rarely? Gin ye had bowed when first I bade, I never wad hae plunderd bonnie Airly.’

6 ‘But gin my guid lord had been at hame, As he is wi Prince Charlie, There durst not a rebel on a’ Scotch ground Set a foot on the bonnie green of Airly.

7 ‘But ye’ll tak me by the milk-white hand, And ye’ll lift me up sae rarely, And ye’ll throw me outoure my [ain] castle-wa, Let me neuer see the plundering of Airly.’

8 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And he’s lifted her up sae rarely, And he’s thrown her outoure her ain castle-wa, And she neuer saw the plundering of Airly.

9 Now gleyd Argyll he has gane hame, Awa frae the plundering of Airly, And there he has met him Captain Ogilvie, Coming over the mountains sae rarely.

10 ‘O wae be to ye, gleyd Argyll! And are you there sae rarely? Ye might hae kept your men at hame, And no gane to plunder bonnie Airly.’

11 ‘O wae be to ye, Captain Ogilvie! And are you there sae rarely? Gin ye wad hae bowed when first I bade, I neer wad hae plunderd bonnie Airly.’

12 ‘But gin I had my lady gay, Bot and my sister Mary, One fig I wad na gie for ye a’, Nor yet for the plundering of Airly.’

* * * * *

#A. b.#

1^2. When the corn grew green and yellow.

2^{1,2}. The Duke o Montrose has written to Argyle To come in the morning early.

2^3. An lead in his men by.

2^4. the bonnie house o Airly.

3^1. The lady lookd oer her window sae hie.

4^1. down Lady Margaret he says.

4^{2,3}. (cf. #f.#).

‘Or before the morning clear day light, I’ll no leave a standing stane in Airly.’

‘I wadna kiss thee, great Argyle, I wadna kiss thee fairly, I wadna kiss thee, great Argyle, Gin you shoudna leave a standing stane in Airly.’

5^1. by the middle sae sma.

5^2. Says, Lady, where is your drury?

5^{3,4}. It’s up and down by the bonnie burn-side, Amang the planting of Airly.

6^2. They sought it late and early.

6^3. And found: bonnie balm-tree.

7^1. by the left shoulder.

7^3. And led: to yon green bank.

8^1 (10^1). lord had been at hame.

8^2 (10^2). As this night he is wi C.

8^3 (10^3). There durst na a Campbell in a’ the west.

8^4 (10^4). Hae plundered the bonnie house.

9. Wanting.

10^1 (9^1). O it’s I hae seven braw sons, she says.

10^2 (9^2). And the youngest.

10^3 (9^3). had as mony mae.

10^4 (9^4). to Charlie.

#c.#

1–5^1 are repeated at p. 54, with some differences.

1^1. fell about a [the] Lammass time.

1^2. corn [the corn] grew green and yellow.

2^1. has gathered three hunder.

2^2. Three hunder men and mair O.

2^3. is on to.

2^4. the bonnie house o A.

3^1. The lady lookit oure the castle-wa.

3^2. she was sorry.

3^3. Whan she saw gleyd Argyle an his [300] men.

4^1. Come down the stair, Lady Airly [he says].

4^2. An it’s ye maun kiss [An kiss me fairly].

4^3. I wad na kiss ye, gleyd Argyll.

4^4. Atho [Tho] ye leave na.

5^1. Come down the stair, Lady Airly, he says.

5^2. An tell whar.

5^3. Up and down the bonnie.

5^4. And by the bonnie bowling-green o.

6. Wanting.

7^1. took: the milk-white hand.

7^2. And led her fairly.

7^3. Up an down the bonnie water-side.

7^4. the bonnie house o Airly.

8^1. But an: were at hame (=9^1).

8^2. awa wi Charley.

8^3. The best Campbell in a’ your kin.

8^4. Durst na plunder the b. h. o. A.

9. Wanting.

10^1 (7^1). Seven sons have I born, she says.

10^2 (7^2). The eight: its.

10^3 (7^3). Altho: as many mare.

10^4 (7^4). a’ to fight for Charley.

#d.#

1^2. When corn grew green.

2^1. has hired.

2^2. A hundred men and mairly.

2^3. to the.

2^4. the b. h. of A.

3^1. The lady lookit over her window.

3^2. lookit waely.

3^3. she saw.

3^4. Coming.

4^3. I wadna kiss the great.

4^4. Tho you.

5^1. by the milk-white hand.

5^2. Lady, where’s your.

5^3. It’s up and down yon bonny burn-side.

5^4. It shines in the bowling-green of A.

6^2. sought it late and early.

6^3. They’ve found: the bonny cherry-tree.

6^4. That grows in.

Between 6 and 7:

There is ae favour I ask of thee, I beg but ye’ll grant it fairly: That ye will take me to yon high hill-top, That I maunna see the burning of Airly.

7^1. by the left shoulder.

7^2. lookit queerly.

7^4. he’s led.

7^4. the b. h. of A.

Between 7 and 8:

He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, He’s led her right and fairly; He’s led her to yon high hill-top, Till they’ve burned the bonny house of Airly.

8^2. away wi Prince Charlie.

8^3. The great Argyle and a’ his men.

8^4. Wadna hae plunderd the b. h. of A.

9. Wanting.

10^3. And if I had a hundred men.

10^4. to Prince.

#e.#

1^2. When the corn grew green and yellow.

2^2. A hundred men and mairly.

2^3. he has gone to.

2^4. the bonny house of Airly.

3^1. The lady looked over her window.

3^2. looked.

3^4. Coming.

4^1. down, madam, he says.

4^3. thee, great Argyle.

4^4. If you.

5^1. by the middle so small.

5^2. Says, Lady, where is your.

5^3. It is up and down the bonny burn-side.

5^4. Among the plantings of A.

6^2. They sought it late and early.

6^3. And found it in the bonny palm-tree.

7^1. by the left shoulder.

7^2. she looked weary.

7^3. down on the green bank.

7^4. he plundered the b. h. of A.

8^1. O if my lord was at home: this night wanting.

8^2. As this night he’s wi Charlie.

8^{3,4}. Great Argyle and all his men Durst not plunder the b. h. of A.

9. Wanting.

10^1. ’Tis ten: unto him wanting.

10^3. But though.

10^4. to Charlie.

#f.#

1^2. When the clans were a’ wi Charlie.

2^1. has called a hundred o his men.

2^2. To come in the morning early.

2^3. And they hae gane down by.

2^4. plunder the b. h. of A.

3^1. L. O. looked frae her window sae hie.

3^2. she grat sairly.

3^3. To see Argyle and a’ his men.

4^1. down, Lady Ogilvie, he cried.

4^{3,4}. Or ere the morning’s clear daylight I’ll no leave a standing.

After 4:

I wadna come doon, great Argyle, she cried, I wadna kiss thee fairly, I wadna come doon, false Argyle, she cried, Though you shouldna leave a standing stane in Airly.

5–7. Wanting.

8. But were my ain guid lord at hame, As he is noo wi Charlie, The base Argyle and a his men Durstna enter the bonny house o Airly.

9. Wanting.

10^1. O I hae seven bonny sons, she said.

10^2. And the youngest has neer seen.

10^3. had ane as mony mae.

10^4. They’d a’ be followers o Charlie.

After 10 this spurious stanza:

Then Argyle and his men attacked the bonny ha, And O but they plundered it fairly! In spite o the tears the lady let fa, They burnt doon the bonny house o Airly.

#g.#

1^2. When the flowers were blooming rarely.

2^2. An hundred men and mairly.

2^4. the b. h. of A.

3^1. The lady lookd oer her w.

3^2. she sighd sairly.

4^3. No, I winna kiss thee.

4^4. Though ye.

5^1. by the middle sae sma.

5^2. Says wanting: Lady where is your.

5^{3,4}. It’s up and down by the bonny burn-side, Amang the plantings o Airly.

6^2. it late and early.

6^3. under the bonny palm-tree.

6^4. That stands i.

After 6 (cf. #A d#, #C# 5):

A favour I ask of thee, Argyle, If ye will grant it fairly; O dinna turn me wi my face To see the destruction of Airly!

The remainder of #g# is taken from #C b#, with two or three slight variations.

#h.#

8. An my gude lord had been at hame, As he’s awa wi Charlie, There durstna a gleyd duke in a’ Argyle Set a coal to the bonnie house o Airlie.

#B.#

5^1, 8^1. Oh.

#C. b.#

No reliance can be placed upon the genuineness of this copy, and a particular collation is not required.

1^{1,2}. It fell in about the Martinmas time, An the leaves were fa’ing early.

4. Two stanzas, much as in #A b#, #f#.

5. But take me by the milk-white hand, An lead me down right hoolie, An set me in a dowie, dowie glen, That I mauna see the fall o Airly.

6. He has taen her by the shouther-blade An thurst her down afore him, Syne set her upon a bonnie knowe-tap, Bad her look at Airly fa’ing.

Here follows a stanza (6) not found elsewhere, no doubt Cunningham’s:

Haste! bring to me a cup o gude wine, As red as ony cherrie; I’ll tauk the cup, an sip it up; Here’s a health to bonnie Prince Charlie!

7, 8. Wanting: found only in #a#.

9. Nearly #e#, #f#, 8.

10^1. I hae born me eleven braw sons.

A concluding stanza may be assigned to Cunningham.

Were my gude lord but here this day, As he’s awa wi Charlie, The dearest blude o a’ thy kin Wad sloken the lowe o Airly.

Another copy is said in the editor’s preface to begin thus:

The great Argyle raised ten thousand men, Eer the sun was waukening early, And he marched them down by the back o Dunkel, Bade them fire on the bonnie house o Airlie.

#c.#

Made over from a copy resembling #B#, #C a#.

4. Two stanzas here, as in #B#: kisses are dropped for propriety.

5, 6. The last half of these is substantially preserved in #c# 7, 8.

#d.#

A blending, perhaps not accidental, of various copies; mainly of #A g#, #C b#, #C c#.

1, 2. Nearly #A g# 1, 2.

3. Nearly #c# 3.

4^{1,2}. Nearly #A g# 4^{1,2}.

4^{3,4}. Nearly #c# 4^{3,4}.

5. Nearly a compound of #A b# (Finlay) 5 and #c# 5; cf. #B# 5.

6. Cf. #b# 4 (5 above), #c# 7.

7. Nearly #c# 8.

8. #b# 6 altered.

The stanza cited by Christie at p. 296 is the spurious conclusion of #c#.

200

THE GYPSY LADDIE

#A.# ‘Johny Faa, the Gypsy Laddie,’ Ramsay’s Tea-Table Miscellany, vol. iv, 1740. Here from the edition of 1763, p. 427.

#B. a.# The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany (vol. lxxx of the Scots Magazine), November, 1817, p. 309. #b.# A fragment recited by Miss Fanny Walker, of Mount Pleasant, near Newburgh-on-Tay.

#C.# ‘Davie Faw,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 381; ‘Gypsie Davy,’ Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, 1827, p. 360.

#D.# ‘The Egyptian Laddy,’ Kinloch MSS, V, 331.

#E.# ‘The Gypsie Laddie,’ Mactaggart’s Scottish Gallovidian Encyclopedia, 1824, p. 284.

#F.# ‘Johnny Faa, the Gypsey Laddie,’ The Songs of England and Scotland [P. Cunningham], London, 1835, II, 346.

#G. a.# ‘The Gypsie Loddy,’ a broadside, Roxburghe Ballads, III, 685. #b.# A recent stall-copy, Catnach, 2 Monmouth Court, Seven Dials.

#H.# ‘The Gipsy Laddie,’ Shropshire Folk-Lore, edited by Charlotte Sophia Burne, p. 550.

#I.# Communicated by Miss Margaret Reburn, as sung in County Meath, Ireland, about 1860.

#J. a.# ‘The Gipsey Davy,’ from Stockbridge, Massachusetts. #b.# From a lady born in Maine.

#K.# ‘Lord Garrick,’ #a#, #b#, communicated by ladies of New York.

The English ballad, though derived from the Scottish, may perhaps have been printed earlier. A conjectural date of 1720 is given, with hesitation, to #G a#, in the catalogue of the British Museum.

The Scottish ballad appears to have been first printed in the fourth volume of the Tea-Table Miscellany, 1740, but no copy of that edition has been recovered. From the Tea-Table Miscellany it was repeated, with variations, some traditional, some arbitrary, in: Herd’s Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, ‘Gypsie Laddie,’ p. 88, ed. 1776, II, 54; The Fond Mother’s Garland, not dated, but earlier than 1776; Pinkerton’s Select Scotish Ballads, 1783, I, 67; Johnson’s Museum, ‘Johny Faa, or, The Gypsie Laddie,’ No 181, p. 189; Ritson’s Scotish Songs, 1794, II, 176; and in this century, Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 15; Cunningham’s Songs of Scotland, 1825, II, 175. A transcript in the Campbell MSS, ‘The Gypsies,’ I, 16, is from Pinkerton.

“The people in Ayrshire begin this song,

‘The gypsies cam to my lord Cassilis’ yett.’

They have a great many more stanzas ... than I ever yet saw in any printed.” Burns, in Cromek’s Reliques, 1809, p. 161. (So Sharpe, in the Musical Museum, 1853, IV, 217, but perhaps repeating Burns.) #B#, from Galloway, has eight more stanzas than #A#, and #E#, also from Galloway, fourteen more, but quite eight of the last are entirely untraditional,[38] and the hand of the editor is frequently to be recognized elsewhere.

Finlay, Scottish Ballads, 1808, II, 39, inserted two stanzas after #A# 2, the first of which is nearly the same as 5, and the second as #B# 3, #C# 3. The variations of his text, and others in his notes, are given under #A#. Kinloch MSS, V, 299; Chambers, Scottish Ballads, 1829, p. 143; Aytoun, 1859, I, 187, repeat Finlay, with a few slight changes. The Ballads and Songs of Ayrshire, I, 9, follows Chambers.

The copy in Smith’s Scotish Minstrel, III, 90, is derived from #B a#, but has readings of other texts, and is of no authority. That in Maidment’s Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1868, II, 185, is #B a# with changes. Ten stanzas in a manuscript of Scottish songs and ballads, copied 1840 or 1850 by a granddaughter of Lord Woodhouselee, p. 46, are from #B a#. This may be true also of #B b#, which, however, has not Cassilis in 1^1.

#C# is from a little further north, from Renfrewshire; #D# from Aberdeenshire. #F# is from the north of England, and resembles #C#. The final stanza of #G a# is cited by Ritson, Scotish Songs, II, 177, 1794. ‘The Rare Ballad of Johnnie Faa and the Countess o Cassilis,’ Sheldon’s Minstrelsy of the English Border, p. 326, which the editor had “heard sung repeatedly by Willie Faa,” and of which he “endeavored to preserve as much as recollection would allow,” has the eleven stanzas of the English broadside, and twelve more of which Sheldon must have been unable to recollect anything. #H-K# are all varieties of the broadside.

The Rev. S. Baring-Gould has most obligingly sent me a ballad, taken down by him from the singing of an illiterate hedger in North Devon, in which ‘The Gypsy Laddie,’ recomposed (mostly with middle rhyme in the third verse, as in #A# 1, 8), forms the sequel to a story of an earl marrying a very reluctant gypsy maid. When the vagrant who has been made a lady against nature hears some of her tribe singing at the castle-gate, the passion for a roving life returns, and she deserts her noble partner, who pursues her, and, not being able to induce her to return to him, smites her “lily-white” throat with his sword. This little romance, retouched and repaired, is printed as No 50 of Songs and Ballads of the West, now publishing by Baring-Gould and Sheppard. Mr Baring-Gould has also given me a defective copy of the second part of ‘The Gipsy Countess’ (exhibiting many variations), which he obtained from an old shoemaker of Tiverton.

Among the Percy papers there is a set of ballads made over by the Bishop, which may have been intended for the contemplated extension of his Reliques. ‘The Gipsie Laddie,’ in eighteen stanzas, and not quite finished, is one of these. After seven stanzas of #A#, not much altered, the husband ineffectually pursues the lady, who adopts the gipsy trade, with her reid cheek stained wi yallow. Seven years pass, during which the laird has taken another wife. At Yule a wretched carline begs charity at his gate, who, upon questioning, reveals that she had been a lady gay, with a comely marrow, but had proved false and ruined herself.

#A.# Gypsies sing so sweetly at our lord’s gate as to entice his lady to come down; as soon as she shows herself, they cast the glamour on her (so #B-F#, #G b#). She gives herself over to the chief gypsy, Johny Faa by name, without reserve of any description. Her lord, upon returning and finding her gone, sets out to recover her, and captures and hangs fifteen gypsies. (It is extremely likely that this version has lost several stanzas.)

Our lord, unnamed in #A#, is Lord Cassilis in #B#, #C#, #F# (so Burns, and Johnson’s Museum). Cassilis has become Cassle, Castle in #E#, #G#, Corsefield[39] in #D#, Cashan in Irish #I#, Garrick[40] in American #K#. The Gypsy Laddie is again Johnie, Jockie, Faa in #B#, #D#, #E#; but Gipsy Davy in #C# (where Lady Cassilis is twice called Jeanie Faw), and in American #I a b#; and seems to be called both Johnnie Faw and Gypsie Geordie in #F#. The lady gives the gypsies the good wheat bread #B#, #E# (beer and wine, Finlay); they give her (sweetmeats, #C#) ginger, nutmeg, or both, and she gives them the ring (rings) off her finger (fingers), #B#, #C#, #E#, #G#, #I#, (and Finlay).

#B a# has a full story from this point on. The gypsy asks the lady to go with him, and swears that her lord shall never come near her. The lady changes her silk mantle for a plaid, and is ready to travel the world over with the gypsy, #B a# 5, #A# 3, #C# 4, #D# 3, #E# 4, #F# 4, (#B a# 6 is spurious). They wander high and low till they come to an old barn, and by this time she is weary. The lady begins to find out what she has undertaken: last night she lay with her lord in a well-made bed, now she must lie in an old barn, #B a# 7, 8, #A# 4, #C# 6, #D# 7, #F# 5 (reeky kill #E# 8, on a straw bed #H# 7, in the ash-corner #I# 6). The gypsy bids her hold her peace, her lord shall never come near her. They wander high and low till they come to a wan water, and by this time she is weary. Oft has she ridden that wan water with her lord; now she must set in her white feet and wade, #B a# 11, #C# 5, #D# 5, 6, #E# 7, (and carry the gipsie laddie, #B a# 11, badly; follow, #B b#). The lord comes home, is told that his lady is gone off with the gypsy, and immediately sets out to bring her back (so all). He finds her at the wan water, #B a# 14; in Abbey Dale, drinking wi Gipsey Davy, #C# 10; near Strabogie, drinking wi Gypsie Geordie, #F# 10;[41] by the riverside, #J a# 4; at the Misty Mount, #K# 5, 6. He asks her tenderly if she will go home, #B a# 15, #E# 15, #F# 12, he will shut her up so securely that no man shall come near, #B a# 15, #E# 15; he expostulates with her, more or less reproachfully, #C# 11, #F# 11, #G# 9, #H# 5, #J# 5. She will not go home; as she has brewed, so will she drink, #B a# 16, #G# 10; she cares not for houses or lands or babes (baby) #G# 10, #H# 6, #J# 6. But she swears to him that she is as free of the gypsies as when her mother bare her, #B a# 17, #E# 16.

Fifteen gypsies are hanged, or lose their lives, #A# 10, #B# 18, #D# 14; sixteen, all sons of one mother, #C# 12, 13; seven, #F# 13, #G# 11, (cf. #I# 1).[42]

#D# 8–11 is ridiculously perverted in the interest of morals: compare #B a# 17, #E# 16. ‘I swear that my hand shall never go near thee,’ #D# 8, is transferred to the husband in #I# 5: ‘A hand I’ll neer lay on you’ (in the way of correction).

In #G# 4 the lady, in place of exchanging her silk mantle for a plaidie, pulls off her high-heeled shoes, of Spanish leather, and puts on Highland brogues. In #I# 7 gypsies take off her high-heeled shoes, and she puts on Lowland brogues. The high-heeled shoes, to be sure, are not adapted to following the Gypsy Laddie, but light may perhaps be derived from #C# 12, where the gypsies ‘drink her stockings and her shoon.’ In #K# these high-heeled shoes of Spanish leather are wrongly transferred to Lord Garrick in the copy as delivered, but have been restored to the lady.

It is not said (except in the spurious portions of #E#) that the lady was carried back by her husband, but this may perhaps be inferred from his hanging the gypsies. In #D# and #K# we are left uncertain as to her disposition, which is elsewhere, for the most part, to stick to the gypsy. #J#, a copy of very slight authority, makes the lord marry again within six months of his wife’s elopement.

The earliest edition of the ballad styles the gypsy Johny Faa, but gives no clew to the fair lady. Johnny Faa was a prominent and frequent name among the gypsies. Johnnë Faw’s right and title as lord and earl of Little Egypt were recognized by James V in a document under the Privy Seal, February 15, 1540, and we learn from this paper that, even before this date, letters had been issued to the king’s officers, enjoining them to assist Johnnë Faw “in execution of justice upon his company and folks, conform to the laws of Egypt, and in punishing of all them that rebels against him.” But in the next year, by an act of the Lords of Council, June 6, Egyptians are ordered to quit the realm within thirty days on pain of death, notwithstanding any other letters or privileges granted them by the king, his grace having discharged the same. The gypsies were expelled from Scotland by act of Parliament in 1609. Johnnë, alias Willie, Faa, with three others of the name, remaining notwithstanding, were sentenced to be hanged, 1611, July 31. In 1615, January 25, a man was delated for harboring of Egyptians, “specially of Johnnë Fall, a notorious Egyptian and chieftain of that unhappy sort of people.” In 1616, July 24, Johnnë Faa, Egyptian, his son, and two others were condemned to be hanged for contemptuous repairing to the country and abiding therein. Finally, in 1624, January 24, Captain Johnnë Faa and seven others were sentenced to be hanged for the same offence, and on the following 29th Helen Faa, relict of the late Captain Johnnë Faa, with ten other women, was sentenced to be drowned, but execution was stayed. Eight men were executed, but the rest, “being either children and of less-age and women with child or giving suck to children,” were, after imprisonment, banished the country under pain of death, to be inflicted without further process should they be found within the kingdom after a day fixed.[43] The execution of the notorious Egyptian and chieftain Johnny Faa must have made a considerable impression, and it is presumable that this ballad may have arisen not long after. Whether this were so or not, Johnny Faa acquired popular fame, and became a personage to whom any adventure might plausibly be imputed. It is said that he has even been foisted into ‘The Douglas Tragedy’ (‘Earl Brand’), and Scott had a copy of ‘Captain Car’ in which, as in #F#, #G#, of that ballad, the scene was transferred to Ayrshire, and the incendiary was called Johnny Faa.[44]

Toward the end of the last century we begin to hear that the people in Ayrshire make the wife of the Earl of Cassilis the heroine of the ballad. This name, under the instruction of Burns, was adopted into the copy in Johnson’s Museum (which, as to the rest, is Ramsay’s), and in the index to the second volume of the Museum, 1788, we read, “neighboring tradition strongly vouches for the truth of this story.” After this we get the tradition in full, of course with considerable variety in the details, and sometimes with criticism, sometimes without.[45]

The main points in the traditional story are that John, sixth earl of Cassilis, married, for his first wife, Lady Jean Hamilton, whose affections were preëngaged to one Sir John Faa, of Dunbar. Several years after, when Lady Cassilis had become the mother of two children,[46] Sir John Faa took the opportunity of the earl’s absence from home (while Lord Cassilis was attending the Westminster Assembly, say some) to present himself at the castle, accompanied by a band of gypsies and himself disguised as a gypsy, and induced his old love to elope with him. But the earl returned in the nick of time, went in pursuit, captured the whole party, or all but one,[47] who is supposed to tell the story, and hanged them, on the dule tree, “a most umbrageous plane, which yet flourishes upon a mound in front of the castle gate.” The fugitive wife was banished from board and bed, and confined for life in a tower at Maybole, built for the purpose. “Eight heads carved in stone below one of the turrets are said to be the effigies of so many of the gypsies.”[48] The ford by which the lady and her lover crossed the River Doon is still called The Gypsies’ Steps.

Several accounts put the abduction at the time when the Earl of Cassilis was attending the Assembly of Divines at Westminster. This was in September, 1643. It is now known that Lady Cassilis died in December, 1642. What is much more important, it is known from two letters written by the earl immediately after her death that nothing could have occurred of a nature to alienate his affection, for in the one he speaks of her as a “dear friend” and “beloved yoke-fellow,” and in the other as his “dear bed-fellow.”[49]

“Seldom, when stripped of extraneous matter, has tradition been better supported than it has been in the case of Johnie Faa and the Countess of Cassilis:” Maidment, Scotish Ballads, 1868, II, 184. In a sense not intended, this is quite true; most of the traditions which have grown out of ballads have as slight a foundation as this. The connection of the ballad with the Cassilis family (as Mr Macmath has suggested to me) may possibly have arisen from the first line of some copy reading, ‘The gypsies came to the castle-gate.’ As #F# 1^3 has perverted Earl of Cassilis to Earl of Castle, so Castle may have been corrupted into Cassilis.[50]

Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 28, translates freely eight stanzas from Aytoun.

* * * * *

A

Ramsay’s Tea-Table Miscellany, vol. iv, 1740. Here from the London edition of 1763, p. 427.

1 The gypsies came to our good lord’s gate, And wow but they sang sweetly! They sang sae sweet and sae very compleat That down came the fair lady.

2 And she came tripping down the stair, And a’ her maids before her; As soon as they saw her well-far’d face, They coost the glamer oer her.

3 ‘Gae tak frae me this gay mantile, And bring to me a plaidie; For if kith and kin and a’ had sworn, I’ll follow the gypsie laddie.

4 ‘Yestreen I lay in a well-made bed, And my good lord beside me; This night I’ll ly in a tenant’s barn, Whatever shall betide me.’

5 ‘Come to your bed,’ says Johny Faa, ‘Oh come to your bed, my deary; For I vow and I swear, by the hilt of my sword, That your lord shall nae mair come near ye.’

6 ‘I’ll go to bed to my Johny Faa, I’ll go to bed to my deary; For I vow and I swear, by what past yestreen, That my lord shall nae mair come near me.

7 ‘I’ll mak a hap to my Johnny Faa, And I’ll mak a hap to my deary; And he’s get a’ the coat gaes round, And my lord shall nae mair come near me.’

8 And when our lord came hame at een, And speir’d for his fair lady, The tane she cry’d, and the other reply’d, ‘She’s away with the gypsie laddie.’

9 ‘Gae saddle to me the black, black steed, Gae saddle and make him ready; Before that I either eat or sleep, I’ll gae seek my fair lady.’

10 And we were fifteen well-made men, Altho we were nae bonny; And we were a’ put down for ane, A fair young wanton lady.

* * * * *

B

#a.# The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany, being a new series of the Scots Magazine (vol. lxxx of the entire work), November, 1817, p. 309, communicated by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, as taken down from the recitation of a peasant in Galloway. #b.# A fragment recited by Miss Fanny Walker, of Mount Pleasant, near Newburgh-on-Tay, as communicated by Mr Alexander Laing, 1873.

1 The gypsies they came to my lord Cassilis’ yett, And O but they sang bonnie! They sang sae sweet and sae complete That down came our fair ladie.

2 She came tripping down the stairs, And all her maids before her; As soon as they saw her weel-far’d face, They coost their glamourie owre her.

3 She gave to them the good wheat bread, And they gave her the ginger; But she gave them a far better thing, The gold ring off her finger.

4 ‘Will ye go with me, my hinny and my heart? Will ye go with me, my dearie? And I will swear, by the staff of my spear, That your lord shall nae mair come near thee.’

5 ‘Sae take from me my silk mantel, And bring to me a plaidie, For I will travel the world owre Along with the gypsie laddie.

6 ‘I could sail the seas with my Jockie Faa, I could sail the seas with my dearie; I could sail the seas with my Jockie Faa, And with pleasure could drown with my dearie.

7 They wandred high, they wandred low, They wandred late and early, Untill they came to an old tenant’s-barn, And by this time she was weary.

8 ‘Last night I lay in a weel-made bed, And my noble lord beside me, And now I must ly in an old tenant’s-barn, And the black crew glowring owre me.’

9 ‘O hold your tongue, my hinny and my heart, O hold your tongue, my dearie, For I will swear, by the moon and the stars, That thy lord shall nae mair come near thee.’

10 They wandred high, they wandred low, They wandred late and early, Untill they came to that wan water, And by this time she was wearie.

11 ‘Aften have I rode that wan water, And my lord Cassilis beside me, And now I must set in my white feet and wade, And carry the gypsie laddie.’

12 By and by came home this noble lord, And asking for his ladie, The one did cry, the other did reply, ‘She is gone with the gypsie laddie.’

13 ‘Go saddle to me the black,’ he says, ‘The brown rides never so speedie, And I will neither eat nor drink Till I bring home my ladie.’

14 He wandred high, he wandred low, He wandred late and early, Untill he came to that wan water, And there he spied his ladie.

15 ‘O wilt thou go home, my hinny and my heart, O wilt thou go home, my dearie? And I’ll close thee in a close room, Where no man shall come near thee.’

16 ‘I will not go home, my hinny and my heart, I will not go home, my dearie; If I have brewn good beer, I will drink of the same, And my lord shall nae mair come near me.

17 ‘But I will swear, by the moon and the stars, And the sun that shines so clearly, That I am as free of the gypsie gang As the hour my mother did bear me.’

18 They were fifteen valiant men, Black, but very bonny, And they lost all their lives for one, The Earl of Cassillis’ ladie.

* * * * *

C

Motherwell’s MS., p. 381, from the recitation of Agnes Lyle, Kilbarchan, 27 July, 1825.

1 There cam singers to Earl Cassillis’ gates, And oh, but they sang bonnie! They sang sae sweet and sae complete, Till down cam the earl’s lady.

2 She cam tripping down the stair, And all her maids before her; As soon as they saw her weel-faurd face, They coost their glamourye owre her.

3 They gave her o the gude sweetmeats, The nutmeg and the ginger, And she gied them a far better thing, Ten gold rings aff her finger.

4 ‘Tak from me my silken cloak, And bring me down my plaidie; For it is gude eneuch,’ she said, ‘To follow a Gipsy Davy.

5 ‘Yestreen I rode this water deep, And my gude lord beside me; But this nicht I maun set in my pretty fit and wade, A wheen blackguards wading wi me.

6 ‘Yestreen I lay in a fine feather-bed, And my gude lord beyond me; But this nicht I maun lye in some cauld tenant’s-barn, A wheen blackguards waiting on me.’

7 ‘Come to thy bed, my bonny Jeanie Faw, Come to thy bed, my dearie, For I do swear, by the top o my spear, Thy gude lord’ll nae mair come near thee.’

8 When her good lord cam hame at nicht, It was asking for his fair ladye; One spak slow, and another whisperd out, ‘She’s awa wi Gipsey Davy!’

9 ‘Come saddle to me my horse,’ he said, ‘Come saddle and mak him readie! For I’ll neither sleep, eat, nor drink Till I find out my lady.’

10 They socht her up, they socht her doun, They socht her thro nations many, Till at length they found her out in Abbey dale, Drinking wi Gipsey Davy.

11 ‘Rise, oh rise, my bonnie Jeanie Faw, Oh rise, and do not tarry! Is this the thing ye promised to me When at first I did thee marry?’

12 They drank her cloak, so did they her goun, They drank her stockings and her shoon, And they drank the coat that was nigh to her smock, And they pawned her pearled apron.

13 They were sixteen clever men, Suppose they were na bonny; They are a’ to be hangd on ae tree, For the stealing o Earl Cassilis’ lady.

14 ‘We are sixteen clever men, One woman was a’ our mother; We are a’ to be hanged on ae day, For the stealing of a wanton lady.’

* * * * *

D

Kinloch MSS, V, 331, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton; from a reciter who came from the vicinity of Craigievar.

1 There came Gyptians to Corse Field yeats, Black, tho they warna bonny; They danced so neat and they danced so fine, Till down came the bonny lady.

2 She came trippin down the stair, And her nine maidens afore her; But up and starts him Johny Fa, And he cast the glamour oer her.

3 ‘Ye’ll take frae me this gay mantle, And ye’ll gie to me a plaidie; For I shall follow Johny Fa, Lat weel or woe betide me.’

4 They’ve taen frae her her fine mantle, And they’ve gaen to her a plaidie, And she’s awa wi Johny Fa, Whatever may betide her.

5 When they came to a wan water, I wite it wasna bonny, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

6 ‘Yestreen I wade this wan water, And my good lord was wi me; The night I man cast aff my shoes and wide, And the black bands widen wi me.

7 ‘Yestreen I lay in a well made bed, And my good lord lay wi me; The night I maun ly in a tenant’s barn, And the black bauds lyin wi me.’

8 ‘Come to yer bed,’ says Johnie Fa, ‘Come to yer bed, my dearie, And I shall swer, by the coat that I wear, That my hand it shall never go near thee.

9 ‘I will never come to yer bed, I will never be yer dearie; For I think I hear his horse’s foot That was once called my dearie.’

10 ‘Come to yer bed,’ says Johny Fa, ‘Come to yer bed, my dearie, And I shall swear, by the coat that I wear, That my hand it shall never go oer thee.’

11 ‘I will niver come to yer bed, I will niver be yer dearie; For I think I hear his bridle ring That was once called my dearie.’

* * * * * *

12 When that good lord came hame at night, He called for his lady; The one maid said, and the other replied, ‘She’s aff wi the Gyptian laddy.’

13 ‘Ye’ll saddle to me the good black steed, Tho the brown it was never so bonny; Before that ever I eat or drink, I shall have back my lady.’

* * * * * *

14 ‘Yestreen we were fifteen good armed men; Tho black, we werena bonny; The night we a’ ly slain for one, It’s the Laird o Corse Field’s lady.’

* * * * *

E

The Scottish Gallovidian Encyclopedia, by John Mactaggart, 1824, p. 284.

1 The gypsies they came to Lord Cassle’s yet, And O but they sang ready! They sang sae sweet and sae complete That down came the lord’s fair lady.

2 O she came tripping down the stair, Wi a’ her maids afore her, And as soon as they saw her weelfared face They cuist their glaumry owre her.

3 She gaed to them the gude white bread, And they gaed to her the ginger, Then she gaed to them a far brawer thing, The gowd rings af her finger.

4 Quo she to her maids, There’s my gay mantle, And bring to me my plaidy, And tell my lord whan he comes hame I’m awa wi a gypsie laddie.

5 For her lord he had to the hounting gane, Awa in the wild green wuddie, And Jockie Faw, the gypsie king, Saw him there wi his cheeks sae ruddy.

6 On they mounted, and af they rade, Ilk gypsie had a cuddy, And whan through the stincher they did prance They made the water muddy.

7 Quo she, Aft times this water I hae rade, Wi many a lord and lady, But never afore did I it wade To follow a gypsie laddie.

8 ‘Aft hae I lain in a saft feather-bed, Wi my gude lord aside me, But now I maun sleep in an auld reeky kilt, Alang wi a gypsie laddie.’

9 Sae whan that the yirl he came hame, His servants a’ stood ready; Some took his horse, and some drew his boots, But gane was his fair lady.

10 And whan he came ben to the parlour-door, He asked for his fair lady, But some denied, and ithers some replied, ‘She’s awa wi a gypsie laddie.’

11 ‘Then saddle,’ quoth he, ‘my gude black naig, For the brown is never sae speedy; As I will neither eat nor drink Till I see my fair lady.

12 ‘I met wi a cheel as I rade hame, And thae queer stories said he; Sir, I saw this day a fairy queen Fu pack wi a gypsie laddie.

13 ‘I hae been east, and I hae been west, And in the lang town o Kircadie, But the bonniest lass that ever I saw Was following a gypsie laddie.’

14 Sae his lordship has rade owre hills and dales, And owre mony a wild hie mountain, Until that he heard his ain lady say, ‘Now my lord will be hame frae the hounting.’

15 ‘Than will yon come hame, my hinnie and my love?’ Quoth he to his charming dearie, ‘And I’ll keep ye aye in a braw close room, Where the gypsies will never can steer ye.’

16 Said she, ‘I can swear by the sun and the stars, And the moon whilk shines sae clearie, That I am as chaste for the gypsie Jockie Faw As the day my minnie did bear me.’

17 ‘Gif ye wad swear by the sun,’ said he, ‘And the moon, till ye wad deave me, Ay and tho ye wad take a far bigger aith, My dear, I wadna believe ye.

18 ‘I’ll tak ye hame, and the gypsies I’ll hang, Ay, I’ll make them girn in a wuddie, And afterwards I’ll burn Jockie Faw, Wha fashed himself wi my fair lady.

19 Quoth the gypsies, We’re fifteen weel-made men, Tho the maist o us be ill bred ay, Yet it wad be a pity we should a’ hang for ane, Wha fashed himself wi your fair lady.

20 Quoth the lady, My lord, forgive them a’, For they nae ill eer did ye, And gie ten guineas to the chief, Jockie Faw, For he is a worthy laddie.

21 The lord he hearkened to his fair dame, And O the gypsies war glad ay! They danced round and round their merry Jockie Faw, And roosed the gypsie laddie.

22 Sae the lord rade hame wi his charming spouse, Owre the hills and the haughs sae whunnie, And the gypsies slade down by yon bonny burn-side, To beek themsells there sae sunnie.

* * * * *

F

The Songs of England and Scotland [by P. Cunningham], London, 1835, II, 346, taken down, as current in the north of England, from the recitation of John Martin, the painter.

1 The gypsies came to the Earl o Cassilis’ gate, And O but they sang bonnie! They sang sae sweet and sae complete That down cam our fair ladie.

2 And she cam tripping down the stair, Wi her twa maids before her; As soon as they saw her weel-far’d face, They coost their glamer oer her.

3 ‘O come wi me,’ says Johnnie Faw, ‘O come wi me, my dearie, For I vow and swear, by the hilt of my sword, Your lord shall nae mair come near ye.’

4 ‘Here, tak frae me this gay mantile, And gie to me a plaidie; Tho kith and kin and a’ had sworn, I’ll follow the gypsie laddie.

5 ‘Yestreen I lay in a weel-made bed, And my gude lord beside me; This night I’ll lie in a tenant’s barn, Whatever shall betide me.

6 ‘Last night I lay in a weel-made bed, Wi silken hangings round me; But now I’ll lie in a farmer’s barn, Wi the gypsies all around me.

7 ‘The first ale-house that we come at, We’ll hae a pot o brandie; The next ale-house that we came at, We’ll drink to gypsie Geordie.’

8 Now when our lord cam home at een, He speir’d for his fair lady; The ane she cried, [the] tither replied, ‘She’s awa wi the gypsie laddie.’

9 ‘Gae saddle me the gude black steed; The bay was neer sae bonnie; For I will neither eat nor sleep Till I be wi my lady.’

10 Then he rode east, and he rode west, And he rode near Strabogie, And there he found his ain dear wife, Drinking wi gypsie Geordie.

11 ‘And what made you leave your houses and land? Or what made you leave your money? Or what made you leave your ain wedded lord, To follow the gypsie laddie?

12 ‘Then come thee hame, my ain dear wife, Then come thee hame, my hinnie, And I do swear, by the hilt of my sword, The gypsies nae mair shall come near thee.’

13 Then we were seven weel-made men, But lack! we were nae bonnie, And we were a’ put down for ane, For the Earl o Cassilis’ ladie.

* * * * *

G

#a.# A broadside in the Roxburghe Ballads, III, 685, entered in the catalogue, doubtfully, as of Newcastle upon Tyne, 1720. #b.# A recent stall-copy, Catnach, 2 Monmouth Court, Seven Dials.

1 There was seven gypsies all in a gang, They were brisk and bonny; O They rode till they came to the Earl of Castle’s house, And there they sang most sweetly. O

2 The Earl of Castle’s lady came down, With the waiting-maid beside her; As soon as her fair face they saw, They called their grandmother over.

3 They gave to her a nutmeg brown, And a race of the best ginger; She gave to them a far better thing, ’Twas the ring from off her finger.

4 She pulld off her high-heeld shoes, They was made of Spanish leather; She put on her highland brog[u]es, To follow the gypsey loddy.

5 At night when my good lord came home, Enquiring for his lady, The waiting-maid made this reply, ‘She’s following the gypsey loddy.’

6 ‘Come saddle me my milk-white steed, Come saddle it so bonny, As I may go seek my own wedded wife, That’s following the gypsey loddy.

7 ‘Have you been east? have you been west? Or have you been brisk and bonny? Or have you seen a gay lady, A following the gypsey loddy?’

8 He rode all that summer’s night, And part of the next morning; At length he spy’d his own wedded wife, She was cold, wet, and weary.

9 ‘Why did you leave your houses and land? Or why did you leave your money? Or why did you leave your good wedded lord, To follow the gypsey loddy?’

10 ‘O what care I for houses and land? Or what care I for money? So as I have brewd, so will I return; So fare you well, my honey!’

11 There was seven gypsies in a gang, And they was brisk and bonny, And they’re to be hanged all on a row, For the Earl of Castle’s lady.

* * * * *

H

Shropshire Lolk-Lore, edited by Charlotte Sophia Burne, p. 550, as sung May 23, 1885, by gypsy children.

1 There came a gang o gipsies by, And they was singing so merry, O Till they gained the heart o my lady gay, . . . . . . .

2 As soon as the lord he did come in, Enquired for his lady, O And some o the sarvants did-a reply, ‘Her’s away wi the gipsy laddie.’ O

3 ‘O saddle me the bay, and saddle me the grey, Till I go and sarch for my lady;’ And some o the sarvants did-a reply, ‘Her’s away wi the gipsy laddie.’

4 And he rode on, and he rode off, Till he came to the gipsies’ tentie, And there he saw his lady gay, By the side o the gipsy laddie.

5 ‘Didn’t I leave you houses and land? And didn’t I leave you money? Didn’t I leave you three pretty babes As ever was in yonder green island?’

6 ‘What care I for houses and land? And what care I for money? What do I care for three pretty babes?’ . . . . . . .

7 ‘The tother night you was on a feather bed, Now you’re on a straw one,’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

* * * * *

I

From Miss Margaret Reburn, “as sung in County Meath, Ireland, about 1860.”

1 There come seven gypsies on a day, Oh, but they sang bonny! O And they sang so sweet, and they sang so clear, Down cam the earl’s ladie. O

2 They gave to her the nutmeg, And they gave to her the ginger; But she gave to them a far better thing, The seven gold rings off her fingers.

3 When the earl he did come home, Enquiring for his ladie, One of the servants made this reply, ‘She’s awa with the gypsie lad[d]ie.’

4 ‘Come saddle for me the brown,’ he said, ‘For the black was neer so speedy, And I will travel night and day Till I find out my ladie.

5 ‘Will you come home, my dear?’ he said, ‘Oh will you come home, my honey? And, by the point of my broad sword, A hand I’ll neer lay on you.’

6 ‘Last night I lay on a good feather-bed, And my own wedded lord beside me, And tonight I’ll lie in the ash-corner, With the gypsies all around me.

7 ‘They took off my high-heeled shoes, That were made of Spanish leather, And I have put on coarse Lowland brogues, To trip it oer the heather.’

8 ‘The Earl of Cashan is lying sick; Not one hair I’m sorry; I’d rather have a kiss from his fair lady’s lips Than all his gold and his money.’

* * * * *

J

#a.# Written down by Newton Pepoun, as learned from a boy with whom he went to school in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, about 1845. #b.# From the singing of Mrs Farmer, born in Maine, as learned by her daughter, about 1840.

1 There was a gip came oer the land, He sung so sweet and gaily; He sung with glee, neath the wild wood tree, He charmed the great lord’s lady. Ring a ding a ding go ding go da, Ring a ding a ding go da dy, Ring a ding a ding go ding go da, She’s gone with the gipsey Davy.

2 The lord he came home late that night; Enquiring for his lady, ‘She’s gone, she’s gone,’ said his old servant-man, ‘She’s gone with the gipsey Davy.’

3 ‘Go saddle me my best black mare; The grey is neer so speedy; For I’ll ride all night, and I’ll ride all day, Till I overtake my lady.’

4 Riding by the river-side, The grass was wet and dewy; Seated with her gipsey lad, It’s there he spied his lady.

5 ‘Would you forsake your house and home? Would you forsake your baby? Would you forsake your own true love, And go with the gipsey Davy?’

6 ‘Yes, I’ll forsake my house and home, Yes, I’ll forsake my baby; What care I for my true love? I love the gipsey Davy.’

7 The great lord he rode home that night, He took good care of his baby, And ere six months had passed away He married another lady.

* * * * *

K

#a.# From Mrs Helena Titus Brown of New York. #b.# From Miss Emma A. Clinch of New York. Derived, 1820, or a little later, #a# directly, #b# indirectly, from the singing of Miss Phœbe Wood, Huntington, Long Island, and perhaps learned from English soldiers there stationed during the Revolutionary war.

* * * * * *

1 ‘Go bring me down my high-heeled shoes, Made of the Spanish leather, And I’ll take off my low-heeled shoes, And away we’ll go together.’ Lumpy dumpy linky dinky day Lumpy dumpy linky dinky daddy

2 They brought her down her high-heeled shoes, Made of the Spanish leather, And she took off her low-heeled shoes, And away they went together.

3 And when Lord Garrick he got there, Inquiring for his lady, Then up steps his best friend: ‘She’s gone with a gipsy laddie.’

4 ‘Go saddle me my bonny brown, For the grey is not so speedy, And away we’ll go to the Misty Mount, And overtake my lady.’

5 They saddled him his bonny brown, For the grey was not so speedy, And away they went to the Misty Mount, And overtook his lady.

6 And when Lord Garrick he got there, ’Twas in the morning early, And there he found his lady fair, And she was wet and weary.

7 ‘And it’s fare you well, my dearest dear, And it’s fare you well for ever, And if you don’t go with me now, Don’t let me see you never.’

* * * * *

#A.#

Variations of Finlay, II, 39 ff.

Inserted after 2:

‘O come with me,’ says Johnie Faw, ‘O come with me, my dearie; For I vow and I swear, by the hilt of my sword, That your lord shall nae mair come near ye.’

Then she gied them the beer and the wine, And they gied her the ginger; But she gied them a far better thing, The goud ring aff her finger.

4^2. Wi my.

4^3. But this.

6^3. For I vow and I swear, by the fan in my hand.

7^2. And wanting.

9^2. Otherwise: The brown was neer sae ready.

10^3. but ane.

10^4. For a.

Herd has in 10^{3,4} but ane, For. Pinkerton follows Herd, with changes of his own in 1, 10, and the omission of 7. The copy in Johnson’s Museum is Herd’s, with changes: in 10^{3,4}, are a’ put down for ane, The Earl of Cassilis’ lady. Ritson follows Ramsay, except that in 6^2 he has And I’ll, found in Herd; perhaps also in some edition of the Tea-Table Miscellany.

#B. a.#

“Some lines have been omitted on account of their indelicacy:” p. 308 b. The reference is no doubt to a stanza corresponding to #A# 7, or perhaps to a passage like 5–7.

#b.#

Only 1, 2, 5, 10–13, are preserved.

1^1. gipsies cam to oor ha-door.

1^4. doon stairs cam oor gay leddie.

2^2. afore.

2^3. An whan they.

2^4. cuist the glamour.

5^1. my gay mantle.

5^2. me my.

5^3. For I maun leave my guid lord at hame.

5^4. An follow the.

10^1. They travelld east, they travelld wast.

10^2. They travelld.

10^3. to the.

10^4. By that time she.

11^1. I crost this.

11^2. An my guid man.

11^3. Noo I maun put.

11^4. An follow.

12^1. Whan her guid lord cam hame at nicht.

12^2. He spierd for his gay.

12^3. The tane she cried an the ither replied.

12^4. She’s aff.

13^1. the brown, he said.

13^2. The black neer rides.

13^3. For I.

13^4. Till I’ve brought back.

#C.#

4^1. Originally plaid was written for cloak; evidently by accidental anticipation.

5^3. fit altered perhaps from fut; printed fit.

Motherwell has made several verbal changes in printing, and has inserted three stanzas to fill out the ballad.

After 3,

‘Come with me, my bonnie Jeanie Faw, O come with me, my dearie; For I do swear, by the head o my spear, Thy gude lord’ll nae mair come near thee.’

After 7,

‘I’ll go to bed,’ the lady she said, ‘I’ll go to bed to my dearie; For I do swear, by the fan in my hand, That my lord shall nae mair come near me.

‘I’ll mak a hap,’ the lady she said, ‘I’ll mak a hap to my dearie, And he’s get a’ this petticoat gaes round, And my lord shall nae mair come near me.’

#E.#

12, 13. After 9 of #A#, says Finlay, some copies insert:

And he’s rode east, and he’s rode west, Till he came near Kirkaldy; There he met a packman-lad, And speir’d for his fair lady.

‘O cam ye east? or cam ye west? Or cam ye through Kirkaldy? O saw na ye a bonny lass, Following the gypsie laddie?’

‘I cam na east, I cam na west, Nor cam I through Kirkaldy; But the bonniest lass that eer I saw Was following the gypsie laddie!’

See also #G# 7.

#G. a.#

4^3. br oges.

#b.#

In stanzas of eight lines.

1^1. There were.

2^2. With her.

2^3. fair wanting.

2^4. They cast the glamer over her.

3^2. Which was of the belinger.

3^4. ’Twas wanting.

4^2. They were.

4^3. brogues.

4^4. laddy, and always.

6^1. me wanting.

6^3. That I may go and seek.

6^4. Who’s.

7^4. Following a.

8^1. all the summer.

8^3. espied.

8^4. and wet.

9^1. O why.

9^3. your own.

10^1. lands.

10^3. will I remain.

11^1. There were.

11^2. They were.

11^3. all in.

#H.#

2^1. the lawyer did.

#J. b.#

1. The gypsy came tripping over the lea, The gypsy he sang boldly; He sang till he made the merry woods ring, And he charmed the heart of the lady.

Order: 1, 5, 6, 2, 3.

2 (as 4). The lord came home that self-same night, Inquired for his lady; The merry maid made him this reply, ‘She’s gone with the gypsy Davy.’

3 (as 5). ‘O bring me out the blackest steed; The brown one’s not so speedy; I’ll ride all day, and I’ll ride all night, Till I overtake my lady.’

4 (as 7). He rode along by the river-side, The water was black and rily, . . . . . . . . . . . . .

5 (as 2).

5^{1,2}. Will you.

5^3. Will you forsake your own wedded lord.

6 (as 3).

6^2. And I’ll.

6^3. I will forsake my own wedded lord.

6^4. And go with the gypsy Davy.

7. Wanting.

#b# 6. I lay last night. The rest wanting.

#b# 8. Puts the question whether she will go back.

#b# 9. I lay last night. The rest wanting.

#K. a.#

The order as delivered was 3, 1, 2, etc., and the high-heeled shoes were attributed to Lord Garrick. Him, his, he in 2 have been changed to her, her, she. But a further change should be made for sense, in 1, 2: the lady should take off her high-heeled shoes and put on her low-heeled shoes; see #G# 4, I 8.

Burden given also:

Lal dee dumpy dinky diddle dah day

#b.# Burden:

Rump a dump a dink a dink a day Rump a dump a dink a dink a dady.

Or,

Rink a dink a dink a dink a day Rink a dink a dink a dink a day dee.

Order as in #a#.

1^1. fetch me.

1^3. And take away.

2^1. fetched him down his.

2^3. And they took away his.

3^1. got home.

3^4. with the.

4^1. Go fetch me out.

4^3. And we’ll away to.

4^4. To for And.

5^1. They fetched him out.

5^4. To overtake my.

6^3. lady bright.

7^3. you won’t.

201

BESSY BELL AND MARY GRAY

#a.# Sharpe’s Ballad Book, 1823, p. 62. #b.# Lyle’s Ancient Ballads and Songs, 1827, p. 160, “collated from the singing of two aged persons, one of them a native of Perthshire.” #c.# Scott’s Minstrelsy, 1833, I, 45, two stanzas.

A squib on the birth of the Chevalier St George, beginning

Bessy Bell and Mary Grey, Those famous bonny lasses,

shows that this little ballad, or song, was very well known in the last years of the seventeenth century.[51] The first stanza was made by Ramsay the beginning of a song of his own, and stands thus in Ramsay’s Poems, Edinburgh, 1721, p. 80:[52]

O Bessy Bell and Mary Gray, They are twa bonny lasses; They biggd a bower on yon Burn-brae, And theekd it oer wi rashes.

Cunningham, Songs of Scotland, III, 60, gives, as recited to him by Sir Walter Scott, four stanzas which are simply #a# with ‘Lyndoch brae’ substituted in the third for Sharpe’s ‘Stronach haugh.’ ‘Dranoch haugh,’ nearly as in #b#, is, as will presently appear, the right reading. Sharpe’s third stanza, with the absurd variation of royal kin, occurs in a letter of his of the date November 25, 1811 (Letters, ed. Allardyce, I, 504), and is printed in the Musical Museum, IV, *203, ed. 1853.

In the course of a series of letters concerning the ballad in The Scotsman (newspaper), August 30 to September 8, 1886, several verses are cited with trivial variations from the texts here given.

‘Bessy Bell’ was made into this nursery-song in England (Halliwell’s Nursery Rhymes of England, 1874, p. 246, No 484):

Bessy Bell and Mary Gray, They were two bonny lasses; They built their house upon the lea, And covered it with rashes.

Bessy kept the garden-gate, And Mary kept the pantry; Bessy always had to wait, While Mary lived in plenty.

The most important document relating to Bessy Bell and Mary Gray is a letter written June 21, 1781, by Major Barry, then proprietor of Lednock, and printed in the Transactions of the Society of the Antiquaries of Scotland, II, 108, 1822.[53]

“When I came first to Lednock,” says Major Barry, “I was shewn in a part of my ground (called the Dranoch-haugh) an heap of stones almost covered with briers, thorns and fern, which they assured me was the burial place of Bessie Bell and Mary Gray.

“The tradition of the country relating to these ladys is, that Mary Gray’s father was laird of Lednock and Bessie Bell’s of Kinvaid, a place in this neighbourhood; that they were both very handsome, and an intimate friendship subsisted between them; that while Miss Bell was on a visit to Miss Gray, the plague broke out, in the year 1666; in order to avoid which they built themselves a bower about three quarters of a mile west from Lednock House, in a very retired and romantic place called Burn-braes, on the side of Brauchie-burn. Here they lived for some time; but the plague raging with great fury, they caught the infection, it is said, from a young gentleman who was in love with them both. He used to bring them their provision. They died in this bower, and were buried in the Dranoch-haugh, at the foot of a brae of the same name, and near to the bank of the river Almond. The burial-place lies about half a mile west from the present house of Lednock.[54]

“I have removed all the rubbish from this little spot of classic ground, inclosed it with a wall, planted it round with flowering shrubs, made up the grave double, and fixed a stone in the wall, on which is engraved the names of Bessie Bell and Mary [Gray].”

The estate passed by purchase to Thomas Graham, afterwards Lord Lynedoch, who replaced the wall, which had become dilapidated in the course of half a century, with a stone parapet and iron railing, and covered the grave with a slab inscribed, “They lived, they loved, they died.” This slab is now hidden under a cairn of stones raised by successive pilgrims.

Major Barry’s date of 1666 should be put back twenty years. Perth and the neighborhood (Lednock is seven miles distant) were fearfully ravaged by the plague in 1645 and a year or two following. Three thousand people are said to have perished. Scotland escaped the pestilence of 1665–6.[55]

The young gentleman who is said to have brought food to Bessy and Mary is sometimes described as the lover of both, sometimes as the lover of one of the pair. Pennant says that the ballad was “composed by a lover deeply stricken with the charms of both.” In the course of tradition, the lover is said to have perished with the young women, which we might expect to happen if he brought the contagion to the bower. But this lover, who ought to have had his place in the song, appears only in tradition, and his reality may be called in question. It is not rational that the young women should seclude themselves to avoid the pest and then take the risk of the visits of a person from the seat of the infection.[56] To be sure it may be doubted, notwithstanding the tenor of the ballad, whether the retirement of these young ladies was voluntary, or at least whether they had not taken the plague before they removed to their bower. In that case the risk would have been for the lover, and would have been no more than he might naturally assume.[57]

* * * * *

1 O Bessie Bell and Mary Gray, They war twa bonnie lasses; They bigget a bower on yon burn-brae, And theekit it oer wi rashes.

2 They theekit it oer wi rashes green, They theekit it oer wi heather; But the pest cam frae the burrows-town, And slew them baith thegither.

3 They thought to lye in Methven kirk-yard, Amang their noble kin; But they maun lye in Stronach haugh, To biek forenent the sin.

4 And Bessy Bell and Mary Gray, They war twa bonnie lasses; They biggit a bower on yon burn-brae, And theekit it oer wi rashes.

* * * * *

#a.#

In eight-line stanzas.

#b.#

1^3. house for bower.

2^1. wi birk and brume.

2^3. Till the: frae the neibrin.

2^4. An streekit.

3^1. They were na buried in.

3^2. Amang the rest o their kin.

3^3. they were buried by Dornoch-haugh.

3^4. On the bent before.

4^1. Sing for And.

4^3. Wha for They.

4^4. wi thrashes.

#c.#

1^1. O wanting.

2. Wanting.

3^1. They wadna rest in Methvin kirk.

3^2. gentle kin.

3^3. But they wad lie in Lednoch braes.

3^4. beek against.

4. Wanting.

202

THE BATTLE OF PHILIPHAUGH

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 153, 1803, II, 166, 1833; “preserved by tradition in Selkirkshire.”

After six brilliant victories, at Tipper-muir, Aberdeen, Inverlochy, Auldearn, Alford, Kilsyth, gained in less than a year, September 1, 1644–August 15, 1645, Montrose was surprised by David Leslie at Philiphaugh, September 13 following, and his army cut to pieces or dispersed. This army, consisting of only five hundred Irish foot and twelve hundred Scottish horse, the last all gentry, was lying at Philiphaugh, a meadow on the west side of the Ettrick, and at Selkirk, on and above the opposite bank. Leslie came down from the north with four thousand cavalry and some infantry, was less than four miles from Selkirk the night of the twelfth, and on the morrow, favored by a heavy mist, had advanced to about half a mile’s distance before his approach was reported. A hundred and fifty of Montrose’s horse received and repulsed two charges of greatly superior numbers; the rest stood off and presently took to flight. The foot remained firm. Two thousand of Leslie’s horse crossed the river and got into Montrose’s rear, and made resistance vain. Montrose and a few friends hewed their way through the enemy.[58]

1. Harehead wood is at the western end of the plain of Philiphaugh.

2, 3. Leslie had come up from Berwick along the eastern coast as far as Tranent, and then suddenly turned south. His numbers are put too low, and Montrose’s, in 10, about nine times too high.

4. The Shaw burn is a small stream that flows into the Ettrick from the south, a little north of the town.

5. Lingly burn falls into the Ettrick from the north, a little above the Shaw burn.

The ‘aged father,’ 6, to accept a tradition reported by Sir Walter Scott, was one “Brydone, ancestor to several families in the parish of Ettrick.” This is probably the personage elsewhere called Will, upon whose advice Leslie (according to tradition again) “sent a strong body of horse over a dip in the bank that separated his advanced guard from the river Ettrick, and still known as “Will’s Nick,” with instructions to follow their guide up Netley burn, wheel to the left round Linglee hill, and then fall upon the flank of Montrose’s army at Philiphaugh.”[59] It does not appear that Leslie adopted that portion of the aged father’s recommendation which is conveyed in stanzas 11, 12, notwithstanding the venerable man’s unusual experience, which, as Scott points out, extended from Solway Moss, 1542, to Dunbar, where, in 1650, five years after Philiphaugh, Leslie was defeated by Cromwell.

Other pieces of popular verse relating, in part or wholly, to Montrose are ‘The Gallant Grahams,’ Roxburghe collection, III, 380, Douce, III, 39 back, Ebsworth, Roxburghe Ballads, VI, 587, Scott’s Minstrelsy, III, 371, 1803, II, 183, 1833; ‘The Haughs o Cromdale,’ Ritson’s Scotish Songs, 1794, II, 40, Johnson’s Museum, No 488, Maidment’s Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1868, I, 299, Hogg’s Jacobite Relics, I, 157 ff; ‘The Battle of Alford,’ Laing’s Thistle of Scotland, p. 68.

* * * * *

1 On Philiphaugh a fray began, At Hairheadwood it ended; The Scots outoer the Græmes they ran, Sae merrily they bended.

2 Sir David frae the Border came, Wi heart an hand came he; Wi him three thousand bonny Scots, To bear him company.

3 Wi him three thousand valiant men, A noble sight to see! A cloud o mist them weel conceald, As close as eer might be.

4 When they came to the Shaw burn, Said he, Sae weel we frame, I think it is convenient That we should sing a psalm.

5 When they came to the Lingly burn, As daylight did appear, They spy’d an aged father, And he did draw them near.

6 ‘Come hither, aged father,’ Sir David he did cry, ‘And tell me where Montrose lies, With all his great army.’

7 ‘But first you must come tell to me, If friends or foes you be; I fear you are Montrose’s men, Come frae the north country.’

8 ‘No, we are nane o Montrose’s men, Nor eer intend to be; I am Sir David Lesly, That’s speaking unto thee.’

9 ‘If you’re Sir David Lesly, As I think weel ye be, I am sorry ye hae brought so few Into your company.

10 ‘There’s fifteen thousand armed men Encamped on yon lee; Ye’ll never be a bite to them, For aught that I can see.

11 ‘But halve your men in equal parts, Your purpose to fulfill; Let ae half keep the water-side, The rest gae round the hill.

12 ‘Your nether party fire must, Then beat a flying drum; And then they’ll think the day’s their ain, And frae the trench they’ll come.

13 ‘Then, those that are behind them maun Gie shot, baith grit and sma; And so, between your armies twa, Ye may make them to fa.’

14 ‘O were ye ever a soldier?’ Sir David Lesly said; ‘O yes; I was at Solway Flow, Where we were all betrayd.

15 ‘Again I was at curst Dunbar, And was a prisner taen, And many weary night and day In prison I hae lien.’

16 ‘If ye will lead these men aright, Rewarded shall ye be; But, if that ye a traitor prove, I’ll hang thee on a tree.’

17 ‘Sir, I will not a traitor prove; Montrose has plunderd me; I’ll do my best to banish him Away frae this country.’

18 He halvd his men in equal parts, His purpose to fulfill; The one part kept the water-side, The other gaed round the hill.

19 The nether party fired brisk, Then turnd and seemd to rin; And then they a’ came frae the trench, And cry’d, The day’s our ain!

20 The rest then ran into the trench, And loosd their cannons a’: And thus, between his armies twa, He made them fast to fa.

21 Now let us a’ for Lesly pray, And his brave company, For they hae vanquishd great Montrose, Our cruel enemy.

* * * * *

4^4. Var. That we should take a dram: Scott. Probably a jocose suggestion.

203

THE BARON OF BRACKLEY

#A. a.# ‘The Baronne of Braikley,’ [Alexander Laing’s] Scarce Ancient Ballads, 1822, p. 9. #b.# ‘The Baron of Braikley,’ Buchan’s Gleanings, 1825, p. 68. #c.# ‘The Barrone of Brackley,’ The New Deeside Guide, by James Brown (pseudonym for Joseph Robertson), Aberdeen, [1832[60]], p. 46.

#B.# ‘The Baron of Brackley,’ Kinloch MSS, V, 379; in the handwriting of John Hill Burton.

#C. a.# ‘The Baron of Braikly,’ Jamieson-Brown MS., Appendix, p. viii. #b.# ‘The Baron of Brackley,’ Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, 1806, I, 102.

#D.# ‘The Baron of Breachell,’ Skene MS., p. 110.

First printed by Jamieson (#C b#) in 1806, who says: “For the copy of the ballad here given I am indebted to Mrs Brown. I have also collated it with another, less perfect, but not materially different, so far as it goes, with which I was favored by the editor of the Border Minstrelsy, who took it down from the recitation of two ladies, great-grandchildren of Farquharson of Inverey; so that the ballad, and the notices that accompany it, are given upon the authority of a Gordon [Anne Gordon, Mrs Brown] and a Farquharson.”[61] #A c# is also a compounded copy: see the notes.

The text in The Thistle of Scotland, p. 46, is #C b#. That which is cited in part in the Fourth Report on Historical Manuscripts, 1874, p. 534, is #A c#. The ballad is rewritten by Allan Cunningham, Songs of Scotland, II, 208.

#A.# Inverey comes before day to Brackley’s gate, and calls to him to open and have his blood spilled. Brackley asks over the wall whether the people below are gentlemen or hired gallows-birds; if gentlemen, they may come in and eat and drink; in the other case, they may go on to the Lowlands and steal cattle. His wife urges him to get up; the men are nothing but hired gallows-birds. Brackley will go out to meet Inverey (both know it is he, 12, 19), but these same gallows-birds will prove themselves men. His wife derisively calls on her maids to bring their distaffs; if Brackley is not man enough to protect his cattle, she will drive off the robbers with her women. Brackley says he will go out, but he shall never come in. He arms and sallies forth, attended by his brother William, his uncle, and his cousin; but presently bids his brother turn back because he is a bridegroom. William refuses, and in turn, but equally to no effect, urges Brackley to turn back for his wife’s and his son’s sake. The Gordons are but four against four hundred of Inverey’s, and are all killed. Brackley’s wife, so far from tearing her hair, braids it, welcomes Inverey, and makes him a feast. The son, on the nurse’s knee, vows to be revenged if he lives to be a man. (Cf. ‘Johnie Armstrong,’ III, 367, where this should have been noted.)

The other versions agree with #A a# in the material points. Inverey’s numbers are diminished. In #B# 10, #C# 11, Brackley has only his brother with him, meaning, perhaps, when he leaves his house. The fight was not simply at the gates, but was extended over a considerable distance (#A# 33, #B# 11), and other men joined the Gordons in the course of it. In #B# 12 we learn that the miller’s four sons (#D# 10, the miller and his three sons) were killed with the Gordons (and William Gordon’s wife, or bride, in #A# 25, is ‘bonnie Jean, the maid o the mill’). In #B# 15, #D# 12, Craigevar comes up with a party, and might have saved Brackley’s life had he been there an hour sooner. In #A a#, #b#, #C#, #D#, Brackley’s wife is Peggy (Peggy Dann, wrongly, #D# 14, 15); in #B# 19 (wrongly) Catharine Fraser. #D# makes Catharine the wife of Gordon of Glenmuick (Alexander Gordon, #A a# 35), who rives her hair, as Brackley’s wife does not (14, 15, 18, 19). In #C#, Peggy Gordon, besides feasting Inverey, keeps him till morning, and then shows him a road by which he may go safely home. #C b# adds, for poetical justice, that Inverey at once let this haggard down the wind.

This affray occurred in September, 1666. The account of it given by the Gordons (the son of the murdered laird and the Marquis of Huntly) was that John Gordon of Brackley, having poinded cattle belonging to John Farquharson of Inverey, or his followers, Inverey “convoked his people, to revenge himself on Brackley for putting the law in execution; that he came to the house of Brackley, and required the laird to restore his cattle which had been poinded; and that, although the laird gave a fair answer, yet the Farquharsons, with the view of drawing him out of his house, drove away not only the poinded cattle but also Brackley’s own cattle, and when the latter was thus forced to come out of his house, the Farquharsons fell on him and murdered him and his brother.”

A memorandum for John Farquharson of Inverey and others, 24 January, 1677, “sets forth that John Gordon of Brackley, having bought from the sheriff of Aberdeen the fines exigible from Inverey and others for killing of black-fish, the said Brackley made friendly arrangements with others, but declined to settle with Inverey; whereupon the latter, being on his way to the market at Tullich,[62] sent Mr John Ferguson, minister at Glenmuick, John McHardy of Crathie, a notary, and Duncan Erskine, portioner of Invergelder, to the laird of Brackley, with the view of representing to him that Inverey and his tenants were willing to settle their fines on the same terms as their neighbors. These proposals were received by Brackley with contempt, and during the time of the communing he gathered his friends and attacked Inverey, and having ‘loused severall shotts’ against Inverey’s party, the return shots of the latter were in self-defence. The result was that the laird of Brackley, with his brother William and their cousin James Gordon in Cults, were killed on the one side, and on the other Robert McWilliam in Inverey, John McKenzie, sometime there, and Malcom Gordon the elder.” The convocation of Inverey’s friends is accounted for in the same document by the fact that Inverey was captain of the watch for the time; that he and his ancestors had been used to go to the market with men to guard it; and that it is the custom of the country for people who are going to the market to join any numerous company that may be going the same way, either for their own security or out of “kindness for the persons with whom they go,” and also the custom of that mountainous country to go with arms, especially at markets. (Abstract, by Dr. John Stuart, of a MS. of Col. James Farquharson of Invercauld, Historical MSS Commission, Fourth Report, p. 534).

Another account, agreeing in all important points with the last, is given in a history of the family of Macintosh.[63] It will be borne in mind that Inverey belonged to this clan, and that acts of his would therefore be put in a favorable light. Brackley had seized the horses of some of Inverey’s people on account of fines alleged to be due by them for taking salmon in the Dee out of season. Inverey represented to Brackley that the sufferers by this proceeding were men who had incurred no penalty, and offered, if the horses should be restored, to deliver the guilty parties for punishment. Brackley would not return the horses on these terms, and Inverey then proposed that the matter in dispute should be left to friends. While Brackley was considering what to do, Alexander Gordon of Aberfeldy came to offer his services, with a body of armed men, and Brackley, now feeling himself strong, rejected the suggestion of a peaceful solution, and set out to attack Inverey. When a collision was impending, Inverey at first drew back, begging Brackley to desist from violence, which only made Brackley and Aberfeldy the keener. Two of Inverey’s followers were slain; and then Inverey and his men, in self-defence, turned on their assailants, and killed Gordon of Brackley, his brother William, and James Gordon of Cults.

The Gordons, this account further says, began a prosecution of Inverey and his party before the Court of Justiciary. Inverey had recourse to Macintosh, his chief, who exerted himself so effectually in behalf of his kinsman that when the case was called no plaintiff appeared. Nevertheless Dr John Stuart (Historical MSS, as above) produces a warrant “for apprehending John Farquharson of Inverey and others his followers, who had been outlawed for not compearing to answer at their trial, and had subsequently continued for many years in their outlawry, associating with themselves a company of thieves, murderers, and sorners; therefore empowering James Innes, Serjeant, and Corporal Radnoch, commanding a party of troops at Kincardine O’Neill, to apprehend the said John Farquharson and his accomplices.” From this warrant Dr Stuart considers that we may infer that Inverey was the aggressor in the affray with Brackley. But there is nothing to identify the case, and the date of the warrant is February 12, 1685, nearly twenty years from the affair which we are occupied with, during which space, unless he were of an unusually peaceable habit, Inverey might have had several broils on his hands.

Gordon of Brackley, as reported by Mrs Brown, from what she may have heard in her girlhood, a hundred years after his tragical end, was “a man universally esteemed.”[64] “Farquharson of Inverey,” says Jamieson, without giving his authority, “a renowned freebooter on Deeside, was his relation, and in habits of friendly intercourse with him. Farquharson was fierce, daring, and active, exhibiting all the worst characteristics of a freebooter, with nothing of that blunt and partially just and manly generosity which were then not uncommonly met with among that description of men. The common people supposed him (as they did Dundee, and others of the same cast who were remarkable for their fortunate intrepidity and miraculous escapes) to be a warlock, and proof against steel and lead. He is said to have been buried on the north side of a hill, which the sun could never shine upon, etc.” All which, as far as appears, is merely the tradition of Jamieson’s day, and will be taken at different values by different readers.

The ‘Peggy’ of #A a#, #b#, #C#, #D# was Margaret Burnet, daughter of Sir Thomas Burnet of Leys, and own cousin of Gilbert Burnet, Bishop of Salisbury.[65] This lady married Gordon of Brackley against her friends’ wishes, or without their consent, and so probably made a love-match. After Brackley’s death she married one James Leslie, Doctor of Medicine,[66] a fact which will suffice to offset the unconfirmed scandal of the ballad.

It is now to be noted that a baron of Brackley had been murdered by caterans towards the end of the preceding century. “The Clanchattan, who, of all that faction, most eagerly endeavored to revenge the Earl of Murray his death, assembling their forces under Angus Donald Williamson his conduct, entered Strathdee and Glenmuick, where they invaded the Earl of Huntly his lands, and killed four of the surname of Gordon, Henry Gordon of the Knock, Alexander Gordon of Teldow, Thomas Gordon of Blaircharrish, and the old baron of Breaghly, whose death and manner thereof was so much the more lamented because he was very aged, and much given to hospitality, and slain under trust. He was killed by them in his own house after he had made them good cheer, without suspecting or expecting any such reckoning for his kindly entertainment; which happened the first day of November, 1592. In revenge whereof the Earl of Huntly assembled some of his forces and made an expedition into Pettie,” etc. (See No 183, III, 456.) So writes Sir Robert Gordon, before 1630.[67]

Upon comparing Sir Robert Gordon’s description of the old baron of Brackley who was murdered in 1592 with what is said of the baron in the ballad (#A#), there is a likeness for which there is no historical authority in the instance of the baron of 1666. The ballad intimates the hospitality which is emphasized by Sir Robert Gordon, and also the baron’s unconsciousness of his having any foe to dread. (“An honest aged man,” says Spotiswood, “against whom they could pretend no quarrel.”) Other details are not pertinent to the elder baron, but belong demonstrably to the Brackley who had a quarrel with Farquharson.

Of the two, the older Brackley would have a better chance of being celebrated in a ballad. He was an aged and innocent man, slain while dispensing habitual hospitality, “slain under trust.” The younger Brackley treated Inverey’s people harshly, there was an encounter, Brackley was killed, and others on both sides. His friends may have mourned for him, but there was no call for the feeling expressed in the ballad; that would be more naturally excited by the death of the kindly old man, ‘who basely was slain.’ On the whole it may be surmised that two occurrences, or even two ballads, have been blended, and some slight items of corroborative evidence may favor this conclusion.

‘The Gordons may mourn him and bann Inverey,’ says #B# 14. It appears that the Earl of Aboyne sided with Inverey, though the Marquis of Huntly supported the laird of Brackley’s son;[68] whereas all the Gordons would have mourned the older baron, and none would have maintained the caterans who slew him.

In the affray with the Farquharsons in 1666 there were killed, of the Gordons, besides Brackley, his brother William and his cousin James Gordon of Cults. The Gordons killed by the Clanchattan in 1592 were Brackley, Henry Gordon of the Knock, an Alexander Gordon (also a Thomas). According to #A# 34, 35, the Gordons killed were Brackley and his brother William, his cousin James of the Knox [Knocks, Knock], and his uncle Alexander Gordon; according to #B# 12, 13, there were killed, besides Brackley, “Harry Gordon and Harry of the Knock” (one and the same person), Brackley’s brother, as we see from 10; in #D# 10, the killed are Brackley, and Sandy Gordon o the Knock, called Peter in 21. A Gordon of the Knock is named as killed in #A#, #B#, #D#, and it is Henry Gordon in #B#; an Alexander Gordon is named in #A#, #B#. A William Gordon and a James (of the Knocks, not of the Cults) are named in #A#. On the whole, the names sort much better with the earlier story.

In #B# 15 we are told that if Craigievar had come up an hour sooner, Brackley had not been slain. Upon this Dr Joseph Robertson (who assigned the ballad to 1592) has observed, Kinloch MSS, VI, 24, that Craigievar passed to a branch of the family of Forbes in 1625; so that Craigievar would have done nothing to save Brackley in 1666, the Gordons and the Forbeses having long been at feud. To make sense of this stanza we must suppose an earlier date than 1625.

The fourth edition of Spotiswood’s history, printed in 1677 (about forty years after the author’s death), calls Brackley of 1592 John Gordon. Further, there is this anonymous marginal note, not found in the preceding editions: “I have read in a MS. called the Acts of the Gordons, that Glenmuick, Glentaner, Strathdee and Birs were spoiled, and Brachlie, with his son-in-law, slain, by Mackondoquy [that is Maconochie, alias Campbell] of Inner-Aw.”[69]

Brackley, on the Muick, is in close vicinity to the village of Ballater, on the Dee, some forty miles westward from Aberdeen.

Translated by Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 156, after Allingham.

* * * * *

A

#a.# Scarce Ancient Ballads [Alexander Laing], Aberdeen, 1822, p. 9. #b.# Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 68. #c.# The New Deeside Guide, by James Brown (i.e. Joseph Robertson), Aberdeen [1832], p. 46.

1 Inverey cam doun Deeside, whistlin and playin, He was at brave Braikley’s yett ere it was dawin.

2 He rappit fu loudly an wi a great roar, Cried, Cum doun, cum doun, Braikley, and open the door.

3 ‘Are ye sleepin, Baronne, or are ye wakin? Ther’s sharpe swords at your yett, will gar your blood spin.

4 ‘Open the yett, Braikley, and lat us within, Till we on the green turf gar your bluid rin.’

5 Out spak the brave baronne, owre the castell-wa: ‘Are ye cum to spulyie and plunder mi ha?

6 ‘But gin ye be gentlemen, licht and cum in: Gin ye drink o my wine, ye’ll nae gar my bluid spin.

7 ‘Gin ye be hir’d widifus, ye may gang by, Ye may gang to the lawlands and steal their fat ky.

8 ‘Ther spulyie like rievers o wyld kettrin clan, Who plunder unsparing baith houses and lan.

9 ‘Gin ye be gentlemen, licht an cum [in], Ther’s meat an drink i my ha for every man.

10 ‘Gin ye be hir’d widifus, ye may gang by, Gang doun to the lawlands, and steal horse and ky.’

11 Up spak his ladie, at his bak where she lay, ‘Get up, get up, Braikley, and be not afraid; The’r but young hir’d widifus wi belted plaids.’

12 ‘Cum kiss me, mi Peggy, I’le nae langer stay, For I will go out and meet Inverey.

13 ‘But haud your tongue, Peggy, and mak nae sic din, For yon same hir’d widifus will prove themselves men.’

14 She called on her marys, they cam to her hand; Cries, Bring me your rocks, lassies, we will them command.

15 ‘Get up, get up, Braikley, and turn bak your ky, Or me an mi women will them defy.

16 ‘Cum forth then, mi maidens, and show them some play; We’ll ficht them, and shortly the cowards will fly.

17 ‘Gin I had a husband, whereas I hae nane, He woud nae ly i his bed and see his ky taen.

18 ‘Ther’s four-and-twenty milk-whit calves, twal o them ky, In the woods o Glentanner, it’s ther thei a’ ly.

19 ‘Ther’s goat i the Etnach, and sheep o the brae, An a’ will be plunderd by young Inverey.’

20 ‘Now haud your tongue, Peggy, and gie me a gun, Ye’ll see me gae furth, but I’ll never cum in.

21 ‘Call mi brother William, mi unkl also, Mi cousin James Gordon; we’ll mount and we’ll go.’

22 When Braikley was ready and stood i the closs, He was the bravest baronne that eer mounted horse.

23 Whan all wer assembld o the castell green, No man like brave Braikley was ther to be seen.

24 . . . . . . . ‘Turn bak, brother William, ye are a bridegroom;

25 ‘Wi bonnie Jean Gordon, the maid o the mill; O sichin and sobbin she’ll soon get her fill.’

26 ‘I’m no coward, brother, ’tis kend I’m a man; I’ll ficht i your quarral as lang’s I can stand.

27 ‘I’ll ficht, my dear brother, wi heart and gude will, And so will young Harry that lives at the mill.

28 ‘But turn, mi dear brother, and nae langer stay: What’ll cum o your ladie, gin Braikley thei slay?

29 ‘What’ll cum o your ladie and bonnie young son? O what’ll cum o them when Braikley is gone?’

30 ‘I never will turn: do you think I will fly? But here I will ficht, and here I will die.’

31 ‘Strik dogs,’ crys Inverey, ‘and ficht till ye’re slayn, For we are four hundered, ye are but four men.

32 ‘Strik, strik, ye proud boaster, your honour is gone, Your lands we will plunder, your castell we’ll burn.’

33 At the head o the Etnach the battel began, At Little Auchoilzie thei killd the first man.

34 First thei killd ane, and soon they killd twa, Thei killd gallant Braikley, the flour o them a’.

35 Thei killd William Gordon, and James o the Knox, And brave Alexander, the flour o Glenmuïck.

36 What sichin and moaning was heard i the glen, For the Baronne o Braikley, who basely was slayn!

37 ‘Cam ye bi the castell, and was ye in there? Saw ye pretty Peggy tearing her hair?’

38 ‘Yes, I cam by Braikley, and I gaed in there, And there [saw] his ladie braiding her hair.

39 ‘She was rantin, and dancin, and singin for joy, And vowin that nicht she woud feest Inverey.

40 ‘She eat wi him, drank wi him, welcomd him in, Was kind to the man that had slayn her baronne.’

41 Up spake the son on the nourice’s knee, ‘Gin I live to be a man, revenged I’ll be.’

42 Ther’s dool i the kitchin, and mirth i the ha, The Baronne o Braikley is dead and awa.

* * * * *

B

Kinloch MSS, V, 379, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton.

1 ‘Baron of Brackley, are ye in there? The’re sharp swords at yer yetts, winna ye spear.’

2 ‘If they be gentlemen, lat them cum in; But if they be reavers, we’ll gar them be taen.’

3 ‘It is na gentlemen, nor yet pretty lads, But a curn hir’d widdifus, wears belted plaids.’

4 She called on her women and bade them come in: ‘Tack a’ yer rocks, lasses, and we’ll them coman.

5 ‘We’ll fecht them, we’ll slight them, we’ll do what we can, And I vow we will shoot them altho we shod bang.

6 ‘Rise up, John,’ she said, ‘and turn in yer kye, For they’ll hae them to the Hielands, and you they’l defie.’

7 ‘Had your still, Catharine, and still yer young son, For ye’ll get me out, but I’ll never cum in.’

8 ‘If I had a man, as I hae na nane, He wudna lye in his bed and see his kye tane.’

9 ‘Ye’ll cum kiss me, my Peggy, and bring me my gun, For I’m gaing out, but I’ll never cum in.’

10 There was twenty wi Invery, twenty and ten; There was nane wi the baron but his brother and him.

11 At the head of Reneeten the battle began; Ere they wan Auchoilzie, they killed mony a man.

12 They killed Harry Gordon and Harry of the Knock, The mullertd’s four sons up at Glenmuick.

13 They killed Harry Gordon and Harry of the Knock, And they made the brave baron like kail to a pot.

14 First they killed ane, and then they killed twa, Then they killed the brave baron, the flower o them a’.

15 Then up came Craigievar, and a party wi him; If he had come an hour sooner, Brackley had not been slain.

16 ‘Came ye by Brackley? and was ye in there? Or say ye his lady, was making great care?’

17 ‘I came by Brackley, and I was in there, But I saw his lady no makin great care.

18 ‘For she eat wi them, drank wi them, welcomed them in; She drank to the villain that killed her guid man.

19 ‘Woe to ye, Kate Fraser! sorry may yer heart be, To see yer brave baron’s blood cum to yer knee.’

20 There is dule in the kitchen, and mirth i the ha, But the Baron o B[r]ackley is dead and awa.

* * * * *

C

#a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., Appendix, p. viii, as transcribed for Jamieson by Rev. Andrew Brown, and sent him by Mrs. Brown in a letter of June 18, 1801. #b.# Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I, 102; Mrs. Brown’s copy combined with an imperfect one taken down by Sir W. Scott “from the recitation of two ladies, great-grandchildren of Farquharson of Inverey.”

1 O Inverey came down Dee side, whistling and playing; He’s landed at Braikly’s yates at the day dawing.

2 Says, Baron of Braikly, are ye within? There’s sharp swords at the yate will gar your blood spin.

3 The lady raise up, to the window she went; She heard her kye lowing oer hill and oer bent.

4 ‘O rise up, John,’ she says, ‘turn back your kye; They’re oer the hills rinning, they’re skipping away.’

5 ‘Come to your bed, Peggie, and let the kye rin, For were I to gang out, I would never get in.’

6 Then she’s cry’d on her women, they quickly came ben: ‘Take up your rocks, lassies, and fight a’ like men.

7 ‘Though I’m but a woman, to head you I’ll try, Nor let these vile Highland-men steal a’ our kye.’

8 Then up gat the baron, and cry’d for his graith; Says, Lady, I’ll gang, tho to leave you I’m laith.

9 ‘Come, kiss me, my Peggie, nor think I’m to blame; For I may well gang out, but I’ll never win in.’

10 When the Baron of Braikly rade through the close, A gallanter baron neer mounted a horse.

11 Tho there came wi Inverey thirty and three, There was nane wi bonny Braikly but his brother and he.

12 Twa gallanter Gordons did never sword draw; But against four and thirty, wae’s me, what was twa?

13 Wi swords and wi daggers they did him surround, And they’ve pierc’d bonny Braikly wi mony a wound.

14 Frae the head of the Dee to the banks of the Spey, The Gordons may mourn him, and bann Inverey.

15 ‘O came ye by Braikly, and was ye in there? Or saw ye his Peggy dear riving her hair?’

16 ‘O I came by Braikly, and I was in there, But I saw not his Peggy dear riving her hair.’

17 ‘O fye on ye, lady! how could ye do sae? You opend your yate to the faus Inverey.’

18 She eat wi him, drank wi him, welcomd him in; She welcomd the villain that slew her baron.

19 She kept him till morning, syne bad him be gane, And showd him the road that he woud na be tane.

20 ‘Thro Birss and Aboyne,’ she says, ‘lyin in a tour, Oer the hills of Glentanor you’ll skip in an hour.’

21 There is grief in the kitchen, and mirth in the ha, But the Baron of Braikly is dead and awa.

* * * * *

D

Skene MS., p. 110; north of Scotland, 1802–3.

1 ‘Baron o Breachell, are ye within? The sharp souerd is at yer gate, Breachell, we’ll gar yer blood spin.’

2 ‘Thei’r at yer gate, Breachel, thei’r neither men nor lads, But fifty heard widifas, wi belted plaids.’

3 ‘O if I had a man,’ she says, ‘as it looks I had nane, He widna sit in the house and see my kye tane.

4 ‘But lasses tak down yer rocks, and we will defend . . . . . . .

5 ‘O kiss me, dear Peggy, and gee me down my gun, I may well ga out, but I ll never come in.’

6 Out spak his brither, says, Gee me yer hand; I’ll fight in yer cause sae lang as I may stand.

7 Whan the Baron o Breachell came to the closs, A braver baron neir red upon horse.

8 . . . . . . . I think the silly heard widifas are grown fighten men.

9 First they killed ane, and syen they killed twa, And the Baron o Breachell is dead and awa.

10 They killed Sandy Gordon, Sandy Gordon o the Knock, The miller and his three sons, that lived at Glenmuick.

11 First they killed ane, and seyn they killed twa, And the Baron o Breachell is dead and awa.

12 Up came Crigevar and a’ his fighten men: ‘Had I come an hour soonur, he sudna been slain.’

13 For first they killed ane, and seyn they killed twa, And the Baron o Breachell is dead and awa.

14 ‘O came ye by Breachell, lads? was ye in their? Saw ye Peggy Dann riving her hair?’

15 ‘We cam by Breachell, lads, we was in there, And saw Peggie Dann cairling her hair.

16 ‘She eat wi them, drank wi them, bad them come in To her house an bours that had slain her baron.

17 ‘Come in, gentlemen, eat and drink wi me; Tho ye ha slain my baron, I ha na a wite at ye.’

18 ‘O was [ye] at Glenmuik, lads? was ye in theire? Saw ye Cathrin Gordon rivin her hair?’

19 ‘We was at Glenmuik, lads, we was in there, We saw Cathrin Gordon rivin her hair.

20 ‘Wi the tear in her eye, seven bairns at her foot, The eighth on her knee....

21 They killed Peter Gordon, Peter Gordon of the Knock, The miller and his three sons, that lived at Glenmuik.

22 First they killed ane, and syn they killed twa, And the Baron of Breachell is dead and awa.

* * * * *

#A.#

No division of stanzas. Both copies are probably from stall-prints or broadsides. #b# differs frequently from #a# in spelling.

#a.#

5^2, 8^1. spulzie.

6^1. gentlmen.

11^3, 25^1, 40^1. we for wi.

22^1. thee.

30^1. I will never.

#b.#

11^1. laid.

11^3. young wanting.

13^2. prove to be men.

15^2. For me.

16^1. ply.

19^1. Ther are goats.

20^2. never return.

22^1. thee.

25^2. seen (phonetic).

26^1. it’s kent.

30^1. I never will: ye.

30^2. No, here.

34^1. an syne.

36^1. was heard.

38^2. ther said.

#c.#

This copy is to the extent of about two thirds taken from #a#; half a dozen stanzas are from Jamieson’s text, #C b#; half a dozen more agree, nearly or entirely, with #B#, and may have been derived from Dr. J. H. Burton, or directly from some traditional source. The order has been regulated by the editor, who has also made a slight verbal change now and then.

1–3==#a# 1–3.

4–8==5–9.

9==11^{1,2}, nearly: (#c# 9^2, and face Inverey).

11^2==13^2.

12–14==18, 19, 17.

15==15, nearly: cf. #B# 6^1.

17^1==16^2.

18==20, nearly.

19==21.

22==31, with different numbers.

23==33: Reneatan for Etnach, cf. #B# 11^1.

24==35.

25==34.

29==38.

30==39.

31^1==40^1.

32^2==40^2, #B# 18^2.

35==41.

36==42.

37==36.

From #C b#.

20==12.

21==13, nearly.

26==16.

33, 34==23, 24, nearly.

38==17.

10 (nearly #B# 6: cf. #c# 15^1).

Get up, get up Brackley, and turn back your kye, Or they’ll hae them to the Highlands, and you they’ll defy.

16 (nearly #B# 4: cf. #a# 14):

She called on her maidens, and bade them come in: Tak a’ your rocks, lasses, we will them comman.

27 (nearly #B# 15: cf. #D# 12). Had he come one hour, etc.

28==#B# 16.

31^2==#B# 18^2 (#a# 40^2). She drank to the villain that killed her barrone.

32==#B# 19, nearly. Wae to you, Kate Fraser, sad may your heart be.

#B.#

11^1. Keneeten perhaps: #b.# Reneatan.

12^1. They for The.

#C. a.#

Not divided, but roughly marked off into stanzas of four verses.

6^2. frocks for rocks.

#b.#

1^1. Down Dee side came Inverey.

1^2. lighted at Brackley yates.

2^1. O are.

4^1. rise up, ye baron, and.

4^2. For the lads o Drumwharran are driving them bye.

5. ‘How can I rise, lady, or turn them again? Whareer I have ae man, I wat they hae ten.’

6. ‘Then rise up, my lasses, tak rocks in your hand, And turn back the kye; I hae you at command.

7. ‘Gin I had a husband, as I hae nane, He wadna lye in his bower, see his kye tane.’

8^1. got.

After 8:

Come kiss me then, Peggy, and gie me my speir; I ay was for peace, tho I never feard weir.

9^1. me then, Peggy.

9^2. I weel may gae out.

10^1. When Brakley was busked and rade oer the closs.

10^2. neer lap to a.

After 10:

When Brackley was mounted and rade oer the green, He was as bald a baron as ever was seen.

12^2. what is.

15^1. by Brackley yates, was.

16^1. by Brackley yates, I.

16^2. And I saw his Peggy a-making good cheer.

After 16:

The lady she feasted them, carried them ben; She laughd wi the men that her baron had slain.

17^1. on you: could you.

17^2. yates.

19^2. shoudna.

“Poetical justice requires that I should subjoin the concluding stanza of the fragment, which could not be introduced into the text; as the reader cannot be displeased to learn that the unworthy spouse of the amiable, affectionate, and spirited baron of Brackley was treated by her unprincipled gallant as she deserved, and might have expected:

Inverey spak a word, he spak it wrang; ‘My wife and my bairns will be thinking lang.’

‘O wae fa ye, Inverey! ill mat ye die! First to kill Brackley, and then to slight me.’

#D.#

Title, 1^1, etc. Breachell. Perhaps miscopied by Skene from Breachlie; and so Crigeran, 12^1, for Crigevar.

17^2. at thee.

204

JAMIE DOUGLAS

#A.# ‘Lord Douglas,’ or, ‘The Laird of Blackwood,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 93.

#B.# ‘Jamie Douglas,’ Kinloch MSS, V, 387.

#C.# ‘Lady Douglas and Blackwood,’ Kinloch MSS, V, 207, I, 103.

#D.# ‘Jamie Douglas,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 107.

#E.# ‘The Laird o Blackwood,’ Kinloch MSS, VII, 127; Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 58.

#F.# ‘Jamie Douglas,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 507.

#G.# ‘Lord Jamie Douglas,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 345.

#H.# ‘Jamie Douglas,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 297.

#I.# ‘Jamie Douglas,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 500.

#J.# ‘Jamie Douglas,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 299.

#K.# ‘Jamie Douglas,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 302.

#L.# ‘Jamie Douglas,’ Finlay’s Scottish Ballads, II, 4.

#M.# Herd’s MSS, I, 54; Herd’s Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 144.

#N.# ‘Lord Jamie Douglas,’ Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. v, the last three stanzas.

#O.# ‘Jamie Douglas,’ Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xvii, IX, one stanza.

This ballad first appeared in print in the second edition of Herd’s Scottish Songs, 1776, but only as a fragment of five stanzas. Pinkerton repeats three stanzas from Herd, very slightly “polished by the editor,” Tragic Ballads, 1781, pp. 83, 119. A stall-copy, says Motherwell, was printed in 1798, under the title of ‘Fair Orange Green.’ #A# and #C# were used by Aytoun for the copy given in his second edition, 1859, I, 133, and #D# for Part Fourth of Chambers’s compilation, Scottish Ballads, p. 157. The “traditionary version,” in thirty-four stanzas, given in the Appendix to Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. v (see his Introduction, p. lxiii, note 5), is made up, all but the fifth stanza and the three last, from #F#-#J# and #O#: see note to #N#.

Lady Barbara Erskine, eldest daughter of John, Earl of Mar, was married to James, second Marquis of Douglas, near the end of the year 1670. The marriage did not prove to be happy, and the parties were formally separated in 1681. They had had one child, James, Earl of Angus, and he having been killed in battle in the Netherlands in 1692, the Marquis of Douglas married again, and had two sons and a daughter. The second of the sons was Archibald, the third marquis, and first and only duke of Douglas.

In an affectionate letter of December, 1676 (succeeding several others to which no answer had been returned), the Marchioness of Douglas writes to her husband: “I am not such a stranger to myself to pretend to the exactness of obedience and duty that my humor or frowardness may not have offended you, and all I can say is, that hereafter I shall so study yours and what may please you that I shall endeavor a conformity to your good will so near as I can. This only I must (most) complain of, that you should retain those in your service or company who takes the liberty of talking so much to the prejudice of your honor and mine. Sure I am I never give the least occasion for it, neither do I think, my dear, that you really believe it. If religion and virtue were not ties strong enough, sense of your honor and mine own, and of that noble family of yours and our posterity, could not but prevail against such base thoughts, and God, who knows my heart, knows my innocence and the malice of those who wounds us both by such base calumnies.” In February, 1677, the marchioness (not for the first time, as it appears) invokes the interposition of the Privy Council in her domestic affairs, and applies for an “aliment” on which she may live apart from her husband, whom she charges with shunning her company and treating her with contempt. The marquis in his reply alleges that his wife had not treated him with due respect, but seems to be averse to a separation. Four years after, a separation was mutually agreed to, and in the contract to this effect the ground is expressed to be “great animosities, mistakes and differences betwixt the said marquis and his lady, which have risen to a great height, so as neither of them are satisfied longer to continue together.”[70]

The blame of the alienation of Douglas from his wife is imputed by tradition to William Lawrie, the marquis’s principal chamberlain or factor, who was appointed to that place in 1670, the year of the marriage. Lawrie married Marion Weir, of the family of Blackwood, then a widow. He is often styled the laird of Blackwood, a title which belonged to his son by this marriage, his own proper designation being, after that event, the Tutor of Blackwood. “The belief that Blackwood was the chief cause of this unhappy quarrel was current at the time among the Douglas tenantry, with whom he was very unpopular, and it is corroborated by letters and other documents in the Douglas charter-chest. The marchioness, indeed, evinces temper, but the marquis appears to have been morose and peevish, and incapable of managing his own affairs. In this matter he consulted, and was advised by, Blackwood at every step, sending him copies of the letters he wrote to his wife, and subscribing whatever document Blackwood thought fit to prepare. Members of the family and dependents alike characterized Lawrie as hypocritical and double-dealing; but on the other hand, it is only fair to mention that on two occasions, Charles, Earl of Mar, wrote to Blackwood thanking him for his kindness to his sister, and assuring him of his esteem.”[71]

John, Earl of Mar, the father of Lady Barbara Erskine, died in 1668, before his daughter’s marriage, and it would have been her brother Charles, the next earl, who took her home. He was colonel of a regiment of foot at the time of the separation, whence, probably, the drums, trumpets, and soldiers in the ballad. Barbara Douglas died in 1690, two years before the marquis’s second marriage.

The reciter of #A#, who got her information from an old dey at Douglas castle, as far back as 1770, told Kinloch that the ballad was a great favorite with Archibald, Duke of Douglas, who lived till 1761. “The Duke used often to get the old dey to sing it to him while he wheeled round the room in a gilded chair ... and muttered anathemas against Lourie, saying, O that Blackwood must have been a damned soul!”[72]

The story of the ballad is very simple. A lady, daughter of the Earl of Mar, #B#, #I#, married to Lord James Douglas, Marquis of Douglas, #D#, lives happily with him until Blackwood (Blacklaywood, Blackly) makes her husband believe that she has trespassed (with one Lockhart, #A#). Her protestations of innocence and the blandishments with which she seeks to win back her lord’s affections are fruitless. Her father sends for her and takes her home. He offers to get a bill of divorce and make a better match for her, but she will listen to no such proposal.

The lady is daughter of the Earl of York, #D#; her brother is the Duke of York (a somewhat favorite personage in ballads), #B#; her mother is daughter of the Duke of York, #G#, and her father is the Lord of Murray. Her husband is the Earl of March, #I# (and #F#?). Had she foreseen the event of the marriage with Douglas, she would have staid at Lord Torchard’s gates (Argyle’s, Athol’s, Lord Orgul’s) and have been his lady, #G#, #H#, #I#, #L#, or in fair Orange green and have been his (Orange’s?) #K#. (Orange gate appears in #D#, also, and so it may be Orange wine, and not orange, that Jamie Douglas is invited to drink in #I# 5.) A handsome nurse makes trouble in #F# 6, but nowhere else. It is not Blackwood that whispers mischief into the husband’s ear in #J# 4, but a small bird; a black bird, fause bird, in two of Finlay’s three copies, a blackie in the other, #L#. In #E# 7 the lady will not wash her face, comb her hair, or have fire or light in her bower: cf. Nos 69, 92, II, 156, 317. In #I# 15, when the lady had returned to her father’s and the tenants came to see her, she could not speak, and “the buttons off her clothes did flee;” “an affecting image of overpowering grief,” says Chambers. See also ‘Andrew Lammie.’

#D# 10–15, #N#, are palpable and vulgar tags to a complete story. James Douglas comes to his father-in-law’s house with his three children, and sends a soldier to the gate to bid his lady come down; he has hanged false Blackwood, and she is to come home: #N#. In #D# the hanging of Blackwood is not mentioned; Douglas calls for wine to drink to his gay lady, she takes a cup in her hand, but her heart breaks.[73]

#A#-#M# have all from one stanza to four of a beautiful song, known from the first quarter of the eighteenth century, and printed fifty years earlier than any copy of the ballad.[74] This song is the lament of an unmarried woman for a lover who has proved false, and, as we find by the last stanza, has left her with an unborn babe. #A#, #C# have this last stanza, although the lady in these copies has born three children (as she has in every version except the fragmentary #E#).[75]

WALY, WALY, GIN LOVE BE BONY.

#a.# Ramsay’s Tea-Table Miscellany, the second volume, published before 1727; here from the Dublin edition of 1729, p. 176. #b.# Thomson’s Orpheus Caledonius, second edition, 1733, I, 71; four stanzas in the first edition, 1725, No 34.[76]

1 O waly, waly up the bank! And waly, waly, down the brae! And waly, waly yon burn-side, Where I and my love wont to gae!

2 I leand my back unto an aik, I thought it was a trusty tree; But first it bowd, and syne it brak, Sae my true-love did lightly me.

3 O waly, waly! but love be bony A little time, while it is new; But when ’tis auld, it waxeth cauld, And fades away like morning dew.

4 O wherefore shoud I busk my head? Or wherfore shoud I kame my hair? For my true-love has me forsook, And says he’ll never love me mair.

5 Now Arthur-Seat shall be my bed, The sheets shall neer be fyl’d by me; Saint Anton’s well shall be my drink, Since my true-love has forsaken me.

6 Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw, And shake the green leaves off the tree? O gentle death, when wilt thou come? For of my life I am weary.

7 ’Tis not the frost that freezes fell, Nor blawing snaw’s inclemency; ’Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry, But my love’s heart grown cauld to me.

8 When we came in by Glasgow town, We were a comely sight to see; My love was cled in the black velvet, And I my sell in cramasie.

9 But had I wist, before I kissd, That love had been sae ill to win, I’d lockd my heart in a case of gold, And pin’d it with a silver pin.

10 Oh, oh, if my young babe were born, And set upon the nurse’s knee, And I my sell were dead and gane! For a maid again I’ll never be.

A stanza closely resembling the third of this song occurs in a Yule medley in Wood’s MSS, about 1620.[77]

Hey trollie lollie, love is jolly A qhyll qhill it is new; Qhen it is old, it grows full cold, Woe worth the love untrew!

The Orpheus Caledonius has for the fourth stanza this, which is found (with variations) in #A#-#M#, excepting the imperfect copy #E#:

When cockle-shells turn siller bells, And mussles grows on evry tree, When frost and snaw shall warm us a’, Then shall my love prove true to me.

Ed. 1725.

Several stanzas occur in a song with the title ‘Arthur’s Seat shall be my bed,’ etc., which is thought to have been printed as early as the Tea-Table Miscellany, or even considerably earlier. This song is given in an appendix.

Aytoun’s ballad, 1859, I, 135, is loosely translated by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 59.

* * * * *

A

Kinloch MSS, I, 93; from the recitation of Mary Barr, Lesmahago, Lanarkshire, May, 1827, and learned by her about sixty years before from an old dey at Douglas Castle.

1 I was a lady of high renown As lived in the north countrie; I was a lady of high renown Whan Earl Douglas loved me.

2 Whan we came through Glasgow toun, We war a comely sight to see; My gude lord in velvet green, And I mysel in cramasie.

3 Whan we cam to Douglas toun, We war a fine sight to behold; My gude lord in cramasie, And I myself in shining gold.

4 Whan that my auld son was born, And set upon the nurse’s knee, I was as happy a woman as eer was born, And my gude lord he loved me.

5 But oh, an my young son was born, And set upon the nurse’s knee, And I mysel war dead and gane, For a maid again I’ll never be!

6 There cam a man into this house, And Jamie Lockhart was his name, And it was told to my gude lord That I was in the bed wi him.

7 There cam anither to this house, And a bad friend he was to me; He put Jamie’s shoon below my bed-stock, And bade my gude lord come and see.

8 O wae be unto thee, Blackwood, And ae an ill death may ye dee! For ye was the first and the foremost man That parted my gude lord and me.

9 Whan my gude lord cam in my room, This grit falsehood for to see, He turnd about, and, wi a gloom, He straucht did tak farewell o me.

10 ‘O fare thee well, my once lovely maid! O fare thee well, once dear to me! O fare thee well, my once lovely maid! For wi me again ye sall never be.’

11 ‘Sit doun, sit doun, Jamie Douglas, Sit thee doun and dine wi me, And Ill set thee on a chair of gold, And a silver towel on thy knee.’

12 ‘Whan cockle-shells turn silver bells, And mussels they bud on a tree, Whan frost and snaw turns fire to burn, Then I’ll sit down and dine wi thee.’

13 O wae be unto thee, Blackwood, And ae an ill death may ye dee! Ye war the first and the foremost man That parted my gude lord and me.

14 Whan my father he heard word That my gude lord had forsaken me, He sent fifty o his brisk dragoons To fesh me hame to my ain countrie.

15 That morning before I did go, My bonny palace for to leave, I went into my gude lord’s room, But alas! he wad na speak to me.

16 ‘Fare thee well, Jamie Douglas! Fare thee well, my ever dear to me! Fare thee well, Jamie Douglas! Be kind to the three babes I’ve born to thee.’

* * * * *

B

Kinloch MSS, V, 387, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton when a youth.

1 Waly, waly up the bank! And waly, waly down the brae! And waly, waly to yon burn-side, Where me and my love wunt to gae!

2 As I lay sick, and very sick, And sick was I, and like to die, And Blacklaywood put in my love’s ears That he staid in bower too lang wi me.

3 As I lay sick, and very sick, And sick was I, and like to die, And walking into my garden green, I heard my good lord lichtlie me.

4 Now woe betide ye, Blacklaywood! I’m sure an ill death you must die; Ye’ll part me and my ain good lord, And his face again I’ll never see.

5 ‘Come down stairs now, Jamie Douglas, Come down stairs and drink wine wi me; I’ll set thee into a chair of gold, And not one farthing shall it cost thee.’

6 ‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells, And muscles grow on every tree, When frost and snaw turn fiery baas, I’ll come down the stair and drink wine wi thee.’

7 ‘What’s needs me value you, Jamie Douglas, More than you do value me? The Earl of Mar is my father, The Duke of York is my brother gay.

8 ‘But when my father gets word o this, I trow a sorry man he’ll be; He’ll send four score o his soldiers brave To tak me hame to mine ain countrie.’

9 As I lay owre my castell-wa, I beheld my father comin for me, Wi trumpets sounding on every side; But they werena music at a’ for me.

10 ‘And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas! And fare ye weel, my children three! And fare ye weel, my own good lord! For my face again ye shall never see.

11 ‘And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas! And fare ye weel, my children three! And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas! But my youngest son shall gae wi me.’

12 ‘What ails ye at yer youngest son, Sits smilin at the nurse’s knee? I’m sure he never knew any harm, Except it was from his nurse or thee.’

13 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And when I was into my coaches set, He made his trumpets a’ to soun.

14 I’ve heard it said, and it’s oft times seen, The hawk that flies far frae her nest; And a’ the world shall plainly see It’s Jamie Douglas that I love best.

15 Ive heard it said, and [it’s] oft times seen, The hawk that flies from tree to tree; And a’ the world shall plainly see It’s for Jamie Douglas I maun die.

* * * * *

C

Kinloch MSS, V, 207, I, 103; from John Rae, Lesmahago.

1 O wally, wally up yon bank! And wally down yon brae! And wally, wally up yon burn-side, Where me and my lord wont to gae!

2 I leand me on yon saugh sae sweet, I leand me on yon saugh sae sour, And my gude lord has forsaken me, And he swears he’ll never loe me more.

3 There came a young man to this town, And Jamie Lockhart was his name; Fause Blackwood lilted in my lord’s ear That I was in the bed wi him.

4 ‘Come up, come up, Jamie Douglas, Come up, come up and dine wi me, And I’ll set thee in a chair of gold, And use you kindly on my knee.’

5 ‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells, And mussels hing on every tree, When frost and snow turn fire-brands, Then I’ll come up and dine wi thee.’

6 When my father and mother they got word That my good lord had forsaken me, They sent fourscore of soldiers brave To bring me hame to my ain countrie.

7 That day that I was forc’d to go, My pretty palace for to leave, I went to the chamber were my lord lay, But alas! he wad na speak to me.

8 ‘O fare ye weel, Jamie Douglas! And fare ye weel, my children three! I hope your father will prove mair kind To you than he has been to me.

9 ‘You take every one to be like yoursel, You take every one that comes unto thee; But I could swear by the heavens high That I never knew anither man but thee.

10 ‘O foul fa ye, fause Blackwood, And an ill death now may ye die! For ye was the first occasioner Of parting my gude lord and me.’

11 Whan we gaed in by Edinburgh town, My father and mither they met me, Wi trumpets sounding on every side; But alas! they could na cherish me.

12 ‘Hold your tongue, daughter,’ my father said, ‘And with your weeping let me be; And we’ll get out a bill of divorce, And I’ll get a far better lord to thee.’

13 ‘O hold your tongue, father,’ she says, ‘And with your talking let me be; I wad na gie a kiss o my ain lord’s lips For a’ the men in the west country.’

14 Oh an I had my baby born, And set upon the nurse’s knee, And I myself were dead and gone! For a maid again I will never be.

* * * * *

D

Kinloch MSS, I, 107: “West-Country version.”

1 I fell sick, and very, very sick, Sick I was, and like to dee; A friend o mine cam frae the west, A friend o mine came me to see, And the black told it to my gude lord He was oure lang in the chamber wi me.

* * * * * *

2 ‘Come doun the stair, Jamie Douglas, Come doun and drink wine wi me; I’ll set ye on a chair of gold, And not ae farthing will it cost thee.’

3 ‘Whan cockle-shells turn siller bells, And fishes flee frae tree to tree, Whan frost and snaw turn fire-beams, I’ll come doun and drink wine wi thee.’

* * * * * *

4 ‘What ails ye at your young son James, That sits upo the nurse’s knee? I’m sure he never did ye no harm, If it war na for the nurse or me.

5 ‘What care I for you, Jamie Douglas? Not a small pin I value thee; For my father he is the Earl of York, And of that my mither’s the gay ladie; They will send fourscore of his soldiers bold For to tak me hame to my ain countrie.’

* * * * * *

6 Whan I was set in my coach and six, Taking fareweel o my babies three, ‘I beg your father’s grace to be kind, For your face again I’ll never see.’

* * * * * *

7 As I was walking up London streets, My father was coming to meet me, Wi trumpets sounding on every side; But that was na music at a’ for me.

8 ‘Hold your tongue, my dochter dear, And of your weeping let abee; A bill o divorcement I’ll send to him, A far better match I’ll get for thee.’

9 ‘Hold your tongue, my father dear, And with your folly let abee; There’ll never man sleep in my twa arms, Sin my gude lord has forsaken me.’

* * * * * *

10 As I was sitting at my bouer-window, What a blythe sicht did I see! I saw four score of his soldiers bold, And I wishd that they were coming for me.

11 Out bespeaks the foremost man, And what a weel-spoken man was he! ‘If the Marquis o Douglas’s lady be within, You’ll bid her come doun and speak to me.’

12 It’s out bespak my auld father then, I wat an angry man was he; ‘Ye may gang back the road ye cam, For her face again ye’ll never see.’

13 ‘Hold your tongue, my father dear, And with your folly let abee; For I’ll ga back, and I’ll ne’er return; Do ye think I love you as weel as he?’

14 As I cam in by the Orange gate, What a blythe sicht did I see! I saw Jamie Douglas coming me to meet, And at his foot war his babies three.

15 ‘Ga fetch, ga fetch a bottle of wine, That I may drink to my gay ladie;’ She took the cup into her hand, But her bonnie heart it broke in three.

* * * * *

E

Kinloch MSS, VII, 127; 24 April, 1826, from the recitation of Jenny Watson, Lanark, aged 73, who had it from her grandmother.

1 I lay sick, and very sick, And I was bad, and like to dee; . . . . . . . A friend o mine cam to visit me, And Blackwood whisperd in my lord’s ear That he was oure lang in chamber wi me.

2 ‘O what need I dress up my head, Nor what need I caim doun my hair, Whan my gude lord has forsaken me, And says he will na love me mair!

3 ‘But oh, an my young babe was born, And set upon some nourice knee, And I mysel war dead and gane! For a maid again I’ll never be.’

4 ‘Na mair o this, my dochter dear, And of your mourning let abee; For a bill of divorce I’ll gar write for him, A mair better lord I’ll get for thee.’

5 ‘Na mair o this, my father dear, And of your folly let abee; For I wad na gie ae look o my lord’s face For aw the lords in the haill cuntree.

6 ‘But I’ll cast aff my robes o red, And I’ll put on my robes o blue, And I will travel to some other land, To see gin my love will on me rue.

7 ‘There shall na wash come on my face, There shall na kaim come on my hair; There shall neither coal nor candle-licht Be seen intil my bouer na mair.

8 ‘O wae be to thee, Blackwood, And an ill death may ye dee! For ye’ve been the haill occasion Of parting my lord and me.’

* * * * *

F

Motherwell’s MS, p. 507; from the recitation of old Mrs Brown, residing at Linsart, parish of Lochwinnoch, September, 1826.

1 Waly, waly up yon bank! And waly, waly up yon brae! And waly, waly by yon river-side, Where me and my love were wont to gae!

2 My mither tauld me when I was young That young men’s love was ill to trow; But to her I would give nae ear, And alas! my ain wand dings me now.

3 But gin I had wist or I had kisst That young man’s love was sae ill to win, I would hae lockt my heart wi a key o gowd, And pinnd it wi a sillar pin.

4 When lairds and lords cam to this toun, And gentlemen o a high degree, I took my auld son in my arms, And went to my chamber pleasantly.

5 But when gentlemen come thro this toun, And gentlemen o a high degree, I must sit alane in the dark, And the babie on the nurse’s knee.

6 I had a nurse, and she was fair, She was a dearly nurse to me; She took my gay lord frae my side, And used him in her company.

7 Awa! awa, thou false Blackwood! Ay and an ill death may thou die! Thou wast the first occasioner Of parting my gay lord and me.

8 When I was sick, and very sick, Sick I was, and like to die, I drew me near to my stair-head, And I heard my own lord lichtly me.

9 ‘Come doun, come doun, thou Earl of March, Come doun, come doun and dine with me; I’ll set thee on a chair of gowd, And treat thee kindly on my knee!’

10 ‘When cockle-shells grow sillar bells, And mussells grow on every tree, When frost and snaw turns fiery ba’s, Then I’ll come doun and dine with thee.’

11 When my father and mother got word That my gay lord had forsaken me, They sent three score of soldiers bold To bring me to my own countrie.

12 When I in my coach was set, My tenants all was with me tane; They set them doun upon their knees, And they begd me to come back again.

13 Fare ye weel, Jamie Douglas! And fare ye weel, my babies three! I wish your father may be kind To these three faces that I do see.

14 When we cam in by Edinbro toun, My father and mother they met me; The cymbals sounded on every side, But alace! the gave no comfort to me.

15 ‘Hold your tongue, my daughter dear, And of your weeping let abee, And I’ll give him a bill of divorce, And I’ll get as good a lord to thee.’

16 ‘Hold your tongue, my father dear, And of your scoffing let me bee; I would rather hae a kiss of my own lord’s mouth As all the lords in the north countrie.’

* * * * *

G

Motherwell’s MS., p. 345.

1 O waly, waly up the bank! And waly, waly down the brae! And waly by yon river side, Where me and my lord was wont to gae!

2 An I had wit what I wit now, Before I came over the river Tay, I would hae staid at Lord Torchard’s yetts, And I micht hae been his own lady gay.

3 When I lay sick, and was very sick, A friend of mine came me to see; When our Blacklywood told it in my lord’s ears That he staid too long in chamber with me.

4 Woe be to thee, thou Blacklywood! I wish an ill death may thou die; For thou’s been the first and occasion last That put strife between my good lord and me.

5 When my father he heard of this, His heart was like for to break in three; He sent fourscore of his soldiers brave For to take me home to mine own countree.

6 In the morning when I arose, My bonnie palace for to see, I came unto my lord’s room-door, But he would not speak one word to me.

7 ‘Come down the stair, my lord Jamie Douglas, Come down and speak one word with me; I’ll set thee in a chair of gold, And the never a penny it will cost thee.’

8 ‘When cockle-shells grow silver bells, And grass grows over the highest tree, When frost and snaw turns fiery bombs, Then will I come down and drink wine with thee.’

9 O what need I care for Jamie Douglas More than he needs to care for me? For the Lord of Murray’s my father dear, And the Duke of York’s daughter my mother be.

10 Thou thocht that I was just like thyself, And took every one that I did see; But I can swear by the heavens above That I never knew a man but thee.

11 But fare thee weel, my lord Jamie Douglas! And fare you weel, my sma childer three! God grant your father grace to be kind Till I see you all in my own countrie.

12 Quickly, quickly then rose he up, And quickly, quickly came he down; When I was in my coaches set, He made his trumpets all to sound.

13 As we came in by Edinburgh town, My loving father came to meet me, With trumpets sounding on every side; But it was not comfort at all to me.

14 ‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear, And of your weeping pray let abee; A bill of divorcement I’ll to him send, And a better lord I will chose for thee.’

15 ‘Hold your tongue, my father dear, And of your flattery pray let abee; I’ll never lye in another man’s arms, Since my Jamie Douglas has forsaken me.’

16 It’s often said in a foreign land That the hawk she flies far from her nest; It’s often said, and it’s very true, He’s far from me this day that I luve best.

* * * * *

H

Motherwell’s MS, p. 297; from the recitation of Mrs Traill of Paisley.

1 O waly, waly up the bank! And waly, waly doun the brae! And waly, waly by yon burn-side, Whare me and my luve was wont to gae!

2 If I had kent what I ken now, I wud neer hae crossed the waters o Tay; For an I had staid at Argyle’s yetts, I might hae been his lady gay.

3 When I lay sick, and very sick, And very sick, just like to die, A gentleman, a friend of mine own, A gentleman came me to see; But Blackliewoods sounded in my luve’s ears He was too long in chamer with me.

4 O woe be to thee, Blackliewoods. But an an ill death may you die! Thou’s been the first and occasion last That eer put ill twixt my luve and me.

5 ‘Come down the stairs now, Jamie Douglas, Come down the stairs and drink wine wi me; I’ll set thee in a chair of gold, And it’s not one penny it will cost thee.’

6 ‘When cockle-shells grow silver bells, And gowd grows oer yon lily lea, When frost and snaw grows fiery bombs, I will come down and drink wine wi thee.’

7 ‘What ails you at our youngest son, That sits upon the nurse’s knee? I’m sure he’s never done any harm And it’s not to his ain nurse and me.’

8 My loving father got word of this, But and an angry man was he; He sent three score of his soldiers brave To take me to my own countrie.

* * * * * *

9 ‘O fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas! And fare ye weel, my children three! God grant your father may prove kind Till I see you in my own countrie.’

10 When she was set into her coach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

11 ‘Cheer up your heart, my loving daughter, Cheer up your heart, let your weeping bee! A bill of divorce I will write to him, And a far better lord I’ll provide for thee.’

12 It’s very true, and it’s often said, The hawk she’s flown and she’s left her nest; But a’ the warld may plainly see They’re far awa that I luve best.

* * * * *

I

Motherwell’s MS., p. 500; from Mrs Notman.

1 ‘O waly, waly up yon bank! And waly, waly down yon brae! And waly, waly by yon burn-bank, Where me and my lord wont to gae!

2 ‘A gentleman of good account, A friend of mine, came to visit me, And Blackly whispered in my lord’s ears He was too long in chamber with me.

3 ‘When my father came to hear ‘t, I wot an angry man was he; He sent five score of his soldiers bright To take me safe to my own countrie.

4 ‘Up in the mornin when I arose, My bonnie palace for to lea, And when I came to my lord’s door, The neer a word he would speak to me.

5 ‘Come down, come down, O Jamie Douglas, And drink the Orange wine with me; I’ll set thee in a chair of gold, That neer a penny it cost thee.’

6 ‘When sea and sand turns foreign land, And mussels grow on every tree, When cockle-shells turn silver bells, I’ll drink the Orange wine with thee.’

7 ‘Wae be to you, Blackly,’ she said, ‘Aye and an ill death may you die! You are the first, and I hope the last, That eer made my lord lichtly me.’

8 ‘Fare ye weel then, Jamie Douglas! I value you as little as you do me; The Earl of Mar is my father dear, And I soon will see my own countrie.

9 ‘Ye thought that I was like yoursell, And loving each ane I did see; But here I swear, by the day I die, I never loved a man but thee.

10 ‘Fare ye weel, my servants all! And you, my bonny children three! God grant your father grace to be kind Till I see you safe in my own countrie.’

11 ‘As I came into Edinburgh toune, With trumpets sounding my father met me; But no mirth nor musick sounds in my ear, Since the Earl of March has forsaken me.’

12 ‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear, And of your weeping let abee; I’ll send a bill of divorce to the Earl of March, And get a better lord for thee.’

13 ‘Hold your tongue, my father dear, And of your folly let abee; No other lord shall lye in my arms, Since the Earl of March has forsaken me.

14 ‘An I had known what I know now, I’d never crossed the water o Tay, But stayed still at Atholl’s gates; He would have made me his lady gay.’

15 When she came to her father’s lands, The tenants a’ came her to see; Never a word she could speak to them, But the buttons off her clothes did flee.

16 ‘The linnet is a bonnie bird, And aften flees far frae its nest; So all the warld may plainly see They’re far awa that I luve best.’

* * * * *

J

Motherwell’s MS., p. 299; from the recitation of Rebecca Dunse, a native of Galloway, 4 May, 1825. “A song of her mother’s, an old woman.”

1 O waly, waly up yon bank! And waly, waly doun yon brae! And waly, waly by yon burn-side, Where me and my luve used to gae!

2 Oh Johnie, Johnie, but love is bonnie A little while, when it is new; But when love grows aulder, it grows mair caulder, And it fades awa like the mornin dew.

3 I leaned my back against an aik, I thocht it was a trusty tree; But first [it] bowed, and syne it brak, And sae did my fause luve to me.

4 Once I lay sick, and very sick, And a friend of mine cam to visit me, But the small bird whispered in my love’s ears That he was ower lang in the room wi me.

5 ‘It’s come down stairs, my Jamie Douglas, Come down stairs, luve, and dine wi me; I’ll set you on a chair of gold, And court ye kindly on my knee.’

6 ‘When cockle-shells grow silver bells, And gold it grows on every tree, When frost and snaw turns fiery balls, Then, love, I’ll come down and dine wi thee.’

7 If I had known what I know now, That love it was sae ill to win, I should neer hae wet my cherry cheek For onie man or woman’s son.

8 When my father he cam to know That my first luve had sae slighted me, He sent four score of his soldiers bright To guard me home to my own countrie.

9 Slowly, slowly rose I up, And slowly, slowly I came down, And when he saw me sit in my coach, He made his drums and trumpets sound.

10 It’s fare ye weel, my pretty palace! And fare ye weel, my children three! And I hope your father will get mair grace, And love you better than he’s done to me.

11 When we came near to bonnie Edinburgh toun, My father cam for to meet me; He made his drums and trumpets sound, But they were no comfort at all to me.

12 ‘It’s hold your tongue, my daughter dear, And of your weeping pray let be; For a bill of divorcement I’ll send to him, And a better husband I’ll you supply.’

13 ‘O hold your tongue, my father dear, And of your folly pray now let be; For there’s neer a lord shall enter my bower, Since my first love has so slighted me.’

* * * * *

K

Motherwell’s MS., p. 302; from Jean Nicol.

1 O waly, waly up the bank! And waly, waly doun the brae! And waly by yon river-side, Where me and my love were wont to gae!

2 A gentleman, a friend of mine, Came to the toun me for to see, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

3 ‘Come doun the stair, Jamie Douglas, Come doun the stair and drink wine wi me; For a chair of gold I will set thee in, And not one farthing it will cost thee.’

4 ‘When cockle-shells grow siller bells, And mussels grow on ilka tree, When frost and snaw turns out fire-bombs, Then I’ll come doun and drink wine wi thee.’

5 But when her father heard of this, O but an angry man was he! And he sent four score of his ain regiment To bring her hame to her ain countrie.

6 O when she was set in her coach and six, And the saut tear was in her ee, Saying, Fare you weel, my bonnie palace! And fare ye weel, my children three!

7 O when I came into Edinburgh toun, My loving father for to see, The trumpets were sounding on every side, But they were not music at all for me.

8 ‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear, And of your folly I pray let be; For a bill of divorcement I’ll send him, And a better lord I’ll provide for thee.’

9 ‘O hold your tongue, my father dear, And of your folly I pray let be; For if I had stayed in fair Orange Green, I might have been his gay ladye.’

* * * * *

L

Finlay’s Scottish Ballads, II, 1, a collation of three copies, one of which was #M#.

1 When I fell sick, an very sick, An very sick, just like to die, A gentleman of good account He cam on purpose to visit me; But his blackie whispered in my lord’s ear He was owre lang in the room wi me.

2 ‘Gae, little page, an tell your lord, Gin he will come and dine wi me I’ll set him on a chair of gold And serve him on my bended knee.’

3 The little page gaed up the stair: ‘Lord Douglas, dine wi your ladie; She’ll set ye on a chair of gold, And serve you on her bended knee.’

4 ‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells, When wine drieps red frae ilka tree, When frost and snaw will warm us a’, Then I’ll cum down an dine wi thee.’

5 But whan my father gat word o this, O what an angry man was he! He sent fourscore o his archers bauld To bring me safe to his countrie.

6 When I rose up then in the morn, My goodly palace for to lea, I knocked at my lord’s chamber-door, But neer a word wad he speak to me.

7 But slowly, slowly, rose he up, And slowly, slowly, cam he down, And when he saw me set on my horse, He caused his drums and trumpets soun.

8 ‘Now fare ye weel, my goodly palace! And fare ye weel, my children three! God grant your father grace to love you Far more than ever he loved me.’

9 He thocht that I was like himsel, That had a woman in every hall; But I could swear, by the heavens clear, I never loved man but himsel.

10 As on to Embro town we cam, My guid father he welcomed me; He caused his minstrels meet to sound, It was nae music at a’ to me.

11 ‘Now haud your tongue, my daughter dear, Leave off your weeping, let it be; For Jamie’s divorcement I’ll send over; Far better lord I’ll provide for thee.’

12 ‘O haud your tongue, my father dear, And of such talking let me be; For never a man shall come to my arms, Since my lord has sae slighted me.’

13 O an I had neer crossed the Tweed, Nor yet been owre the river Dee, I might hae staid at Lord Orgul’s gate, Where I wad hae been a gay ladie.

14 The ladies they will cum to town, And they will cum and visit me; But I’ll set me down now in the dark, For ochanie! who’ll comfort me?

15 An wae betide ye, black Fastness, Ay, and an ill deid may ye die! Ye was the first and foremost man Wha parted my true lord and me.

* * * * *

M

Herd’s MSS, I, 54.

1 Earl Douglas, than wham never knight Had valour moe ne courtesie, Yet he’s now blamet be a’ the land For lightlying o his gay lady.

2 ‘Go, little page, and tell your lord, Gin he will cum and dine wi me, I’ll set him on a seat of gold, I’ll serve him on my bended knee.’

3 The little page gaed up the stair: ‘Lord Douglas, dyne wi your lady; She’ll set ye on a seat of gold, And serve ye on her bended knee.’

4 ‘When cockle-shells turn siller bells, When mussels grow on ilka tree, When frost and snow sall warm us a’, Then I sall dyne wi my ladie.’

5 ‘Now wae betide ye, black Fastness, Ay and an ill dead met ye die! Ye was the first and the foremost man Wha parted my true lord and me.’

* * * * *

N

Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. v, the last three stanzas.

1 She looked out at her father’s window, To take a view of the countrie; Who did she see but Jamie Douglas, And along with him her children three!

2 There came a soldier to the gate, And he did knock right hastilie: ‘If Lady Douglas be within, Bid her come down and speak to me.’

3 ‘O come away, my lady fair, Come away now alang with me, For I have hanged fause Blackwood, At the very place where he told the lie.’

* * * * *

O

Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xvii, IX.

‘O come down stairs, Jamie Douglas, O come down stairs and speak to me, And I’ll set thee in a fine chair of gowd, And I’ll kindly daut thee upon my knee.

* * * * *

Variations of Waly, Waly, etc.

#a.#

Put among ‘Auld Sangs brushd up’ in Ramsay’s “Contents,” p. 329. Printed in eight-line stanzas.

4. Burns had heard this stanza “in the west country” thus (Cromek’s Reliques, 1817, p. 245):

O wherefore need I busk my head? Or wherefore need I kame my hair? Sin my fause luve has me forsook, And says he’ll never luve me mair.

7^3. my cry: me in the London edition of 1733.

#b.#

1^1. up yon bank.

1^2. down yon brea.

1^3. And waly by yon river’s side.

1^4. Where my love and I was wont to gae.

2, 3 are 3, 2.

2^4. And sae did my fause love to me.

3^1. Waly, waly, gin love be bonny.

3^2. little while when.

3^3. it’s: waxes.

3^4. wears away like.

4. Already given.

6^1. O Martinmas.

6^4. And take a life that wearies me.

#B.#

3^3. wlalking.

6^1. bells turn silver shells.

#C.#

These variations in the second copy (I, 103) are Kinloch’s:

4^3. on a.

9^2. to thee.

12^2. let abee.

12^4. for thee.

13^1. father, I said.

13^3. ae kiss.

14^4. I’ll.

#F.#

5^1. For gentlemen Motherwell queries, lairds and lords?

9^1. Earl of Marquis; March queried by Motherwell. It is March in #I#.

#I.#

5^2, 6^4. Orange, not orange, in the MS.

6^1. Motherwell queries far in for foreign.

#J.#

2^1. nonnie, nonny is written in pencil by Motherwell between 1 and 2; no doubt as a conjectural emendation of Johnie, Johnie.

#L.#

2, 3, 4, 15 are #M# 2–5, with slight changes.

1^5. “One copy here bears black-bird and another a fause bird.” (Finlay.)

13^3. Lord Orgul. “This name is differently given by reciters.” (Finlay.)

15^1. Fastness as a proper name, but evidently meant for faustness, falseness, as Motherwell has observed.

#M.#

Quham, quhen, quha are printed wham, when, wha; zet, ze, zour, are printed yet, ye, your.

#N.#

Motherwell’s ballad is “traditionary” to the extent that it is substantially made up from traditionary material. The text of the recited copies is not always strictly adhered to. The fifth stanza happens not to occur in the texts used, but may have come in in some other recitation obtained by Motherwell, or may simply have been adopted from Ramsay. The three last stanzas (#N#) are from some recitation not preserved in Motherwell’s relics. Neglecting unimportant divergencies, the constituent parts are as follows:

1==#H# 1^{1–3}, #G# 1^4.

2, 3==#J# 2, 3.

4==#F# 2.

(5==Ramsay 4.)

6==#F# 3.

7==#I# 14.

8–10==#F# 4–6.

11==#F# 7^{1,2,4}, #H# 4^3.

12==#H# 3 (see #E# 1^{4,5}, #L# 1^4).

13==#F# 8.

14==#I# 5^{1–3}, #O#^4.

15==#I# 6.

16==#H# 7.

17==#J# 7.

18==#F# 11^2, #I# 3^{1,3,4}.

19, 20==#I# 4, 8.

21==#I# 9 (see #L# 9^3).

22==#J# 9.

23==#F# 12.

24==#J# 10.

25==#I# 10.

26==#I# 7^{1–3}, #G# 4^4.

27==#G# 13, #I# 11^{3,4}.

28==#F# 15, #G# 14.

29==#F# 16.

30, 31==#I# 15, 16.

(32 resembles #D# 10^{1,2}, 14^3,4; 33, #D# 11.)

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