English and Scottish Ballads, Volume VI

Ballads, English -- England -- Texts; Ballads, Scots -- Scotland -- Texts

"And every one shall have a scarlet cloak,                      25
      Laid down with silver laces five,
    With your golden belts about your necks,
      With hats and feathers all alike."

    But when Johnny went from Giltnock-Hall,
      The wind it blew hard, and full fast it did rain;
    "Now fare thee well, thou Giltnock-Hall,                        30
      I fear I shall never see thee again."

    Now Johnny he is to Edenborough gone,
      With his eightscore men so gallantly,
    And every one of them on a milk-white steed,                    35
      With their bucklers and swords hanging to their knee.

    But when John came the King before,
      With his eightscore men so gallant to see,
    The King he mov'd his bonnet to him,
      He thought he had been a king as well as he.                  40

    "O pardon, pardon, my sovereign liege,
      Pardon for my eightscore men and me;
    For my name, it is Johnny Armstrong,
      And subject of yours, my liege," said he.

    "Away with thee, thou false traytor,                            45
      No pardon will I grant to thee,
    But to-morrow morning by eight of the clock,
      I will hang up thy eightscore men and thee."

    Then Johnny look'd over his left shoulder,
      And to his merry men thus said he,                            50
    "I have asked grace of a graceless face,
      No pardon there is for you and me."

    Then John pull'd out his good broad sword,
      That was made of the mettle so free;
    Had not the King moved his foot as he did,                      55
      John had taken his head from his fair body.

    "Come, follow me, my merry men all,
      We will scorn one foot for to fly;
    It shall never be said we were hang'd like dogs;
      We will fight it out most manfully."                          60

    Then they fought on like champions bold,
      For their hearts were sturdy, stout, and free;
    'Till they had kill'd all the King's good guard,--
      There were none left alive but one, two, or three.

    But then rose up all Edenborough,                               65
      They rose up by thousands three;
    A cowardly Scot came John behind,
      And run him through the fair body.

    Said John, "Fight on, my merry men all,
      I am a little wounded, but am not slain;                      70
    I will lay me down to bleed a while,
      Then I'll rise and fight with you again."

    Then they fought on like mad men all,
      Till many a man lay dead on the plain,
    For they were resolved before they would yield,                 75
      That every man would there be slain.

    So there they fought couragiously,
      'Till most of them lay dead there and slain,
    But little Musgrave, that was his foot-page,
      With his bonny Grissel got away unta'n.                       80

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

English and Scottish Ballads, Volume VI

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