Johnie Scott

No: 99; variant: 99K

  1. JOHNIE’S up to England gane, Three quarters o a year; Johnie’s up to England gane, The king’s banner to bear.
  2. He had not in fair England been A month ‘twas barely ane, When the fairest lady o the court To Johnie wi child is gane.
  3. Word is to the kitchen gane, And word’s gane to the ha; Word’s gane to the high, high rooms, Among the nobles a’.
  4. And word o’t to the king is gane, In the chamber where he sat, His only daughter goes wi child To Johnie, the Little Scot.
  5. ‘O if she be wi child,’ he says, ‘As I trow weel she be, I’ll lock her up in strong prison, And punish her till she dee.’
  6. Then she has wrote a long letter, And seald it without a blot, And she has sent it to fair Scotland, To Johnie, the Little Scot.
  7. The first line that he did read, In laughter loud was he; But or he gat the hindmost read The tear blindit his ee.
  8. ‘Get ready for me the black, black steed, Get ready for me the brown, And saddle to me the swiftest horse Eer carried man to town.’
  9. Whan he cam to Edinburgh town, He made the bells to ring, And when he cam to merry Carlisle, He made the monks to sing.
  10. When he cam to the king’s gates, He made his drums beat round; The king bot and his nobles a’ They wonderd at the sound.
  11. ‘Is this [the] King of France,’ he cried, ‘Or is’t the King of Spain? Or is it Johnie, the Little Scot, That’s wanting to be slain?’
  12. ‘It’s neither the King of France,’ he said, ‘Nor is’t the King of Spain; But it is Johnie, the Little Scot, That’s come to claim his ain.’
  13. They foucht it ance, they foucht it twice, They foucht it oure again, Till draps o blood, like draps o rain, War rinning to the plain.
  14. Then Johnie drew a nut-brown brand, And strook it oure the plain, Saying, Are there onie mae o your Englishmen That’s wanting to be slain?
  15. ‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king he cried, ‘To sign her tocher-fee;’ ‘A priest, a priest,’ then Johnie cried, ‘To marry my love and me.
  16. ‘I’ll hae nane o your gowd,’ he says, ‘As little o your gear; But I’ll hae her, my ain true-love, For I’m sure I’ve coft her dear.’