An ill death mote he die! For he's awa' to Hislinton, Where the seven Foresters did lie. (_benty line,_ path covered with bent (?). _bryttled_, cut up. _carle_, churl.) "What news, what news, ye gray-headed carle, What news bring ye to me?" "I bring nae news," said the gray-headed carle, "Save what these eyes did see. "As I came down by Merriemass, And down among the scroggs, The bonniest child that ever I saw Lay sleeping amang his dogs. "The shirt that was upon his back Was o' the Holland fine; The doublet which was over that Was o' the Lincoln twine. "The buttons that were on his sleeve Were o' the goud sae gude; The gude gray hounds he lay amang, Their mouths were dyed wi' blude" Then out and spak the First Forester The head man ower them a'-- "If this be Johnnie o' Breadislee, Nae nearer will we draw." But up and spak the Sixth Forester, (His sister's son was he,) "If this be Johnnie o' Breadislee, We soon shall gar him die." (_scroggs,_ stunted trees.) The first flight of arrows the Foresters shot, They wounded him on the knee; And out and spak the Seventh Forester, "The next will gar him die." Johnnies set his back against an aik, His foot against a stane; And he has slain the Seven Foresters, He has slain them a' but ane. He has broke three ribs in that ane's side, But and his collar bane; He's laid him twa-fald ower his steed, Bade him carry the tidings hame. "O is there nae a bonny bird Can sing as I can say, Could flee away to my mother's bower, And tell to fetch Johnnie away?" The starling flew to his mother's window stane, It whistled and it sang; And aye the ower word o' the tune Was--"Johnnie tarries lang!" They made a rod o' the hazel bush, Another o' the sloe-thorn tree, And mony mony were the men At fetching o'er Johnnie. (_aik,_ oak. _the ower word,_ the refrain.) Then out and spake his auld mother, And fast her tears did fa'-- "Ye wad nae be warn'd, my son Johnnie, Frae the hunting to bide awa'. '' Aft hae I brought to Breadislee The less gear and the mair, But I ne'er brought to Breadislee What grieved my heart sae sair. "But wae betide that silly auld carle! An ill death shall he die! For the highest tree in Merriemas Shall be his morning's fee." Now Johnnie's gude bend bow is broke, And his gude gray dogs are slain; And his body lies dead in Durrisdeer, And his hunting it is done. KINMONT WILLY [Illustration: 0111] |O have ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde? O have ye na heard of the keen Lord Scroope? How they hae taen bould Kinmont Willy, On Haribee to hang him up? Had Willy had but twenty men, But twenty men as stout as he, Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont ta'en, Wi' eight score in his company.