And he has drawn his trusty brand, 125 And slew them one by one, Then sat down at the table head, And call[e']d for some wine. The goodwife she ran but, ran but, The goodman he ran ben, 130 The verra bairns about the fire Were a' like to gang brain. "Now if there be a Scotsman here, He'll come and drink wi' me; And if there be an English loun, 135 It is his time to flee." The goodman was an Englishman, And to the hills he ran, The goodwife was a Scots woman, And she came to his hand. 140 APPENDIX. JOHNNY COCK. (See p. 11.) From Fry's _Pieces of Ancient Poetry, from unpublished Manuscripts and scarce Books_ (p. 51). Bristol, 1814. "This ballad is taken from a modern quarto manuscript purchased at Glasgow of Messrs. Smith and Son in the year 1810, and containing several others, but written so corruptly as to be of little or no authority; appearing to be the text-book of some illiterate drummer, from its comprising the music of several regimental marches." Fry did not observe that he was printing fragments of two different versions as one ballad. They are here separated. I. Johnny Cock, in a May morning, Sought water to wash his hands; And he is awa to louse his dogs, That's tied wi iron bans, _That's tied wi iron bans_. His coat it is of the light Lincum green, 5 And his breiks are of the same; His shoes are of the American leather, Silver buckles tying them. _Silver buckles, &c._ 'He' hunted up, and so did 'he' down, Till 'he' came to yon bush of scrogs, 10 And then to yon wan water, Where he slept among his dogs. * * * * * Johnny Cock out-shot a' the foresters, And out-shot a' the three; Out shot a' the foresters, 15 Wounded Johnny aboun the bree. "Woe be to you, foresters, And an ill death may you die![L18] For there would not a wolf in a' the wood, Have done the like to me. 20 "For ''twould ha' put its foot in the coll water, And ha strinkled it on my bree; And gin [it] that would not have done, Would have gane and lett me be. "I often took to my mother 25 The dandoo and the roe; But now I'l take to my mother Much sorrow and much woe. "I often took to my mother The dandoo and the hare; 30 But now I'l take to my mother Much sorrow and much care." 18-24. Finlay furnishes one beautiful stanza which belongs to this portion of the story, and, as that editor remarks, describes expressively the languor of approaching death.