(_slaiked,_ loosened, i.e. took off. _sark_, shirt. gare, hem. Johnny Scott ss' "But take this purse, my bonny boy, Ye well deserve a fee, And bear this letter to my love, An' tell him what you see." Then quickly ran the bonny boy, Again to Scotland fair, An soon he reached Pitnachton's towrs, An' soon found Johnny there. He put the letter in his han, An' told him what he saw, But ere he half the letter read, He loot the tears doun fa'. O I will gae back to fair England, Tho' death should me betide, An I will relieve the damsel That lay last by my side. Then out it spake his father dear: "My son, you are to blame; An' gin you're catched on English ground, I fear you'll ne'er win hame." Then out it spake a valiant knight, Johnny's best friend was he: "I can command five hunder men, An' I'll his surety be." The firstin town that they came till, They gar'd the bells be rung; An' the nextin town that they came till, They gar'd the mass be sung. The thirdin town that they came till, They gar'd the drums beat round, The king but an' his nobles a' Was startled at the sound. When they came to the king's palace, They rade it round about; An' there they saw the king himsel', At the window looking out. "Is this the Duke o' Albany, Or James, the Scottish king? Or are ye some great foreign lord, That's come a visiting?" "I'm na the Duke of Albany, Nor James, the Scottish king; But I'm a valiant Scottish knight; Pitnachton is my name." "O if Pitnachton be your name, As I trust well it be; The morn, or I taste meat or drink, You shall be hanged hi'." Then out it spake the valiant knight, That came brave Johnny wi': "Behold five hunder bowmen bold, Will die to set him free." Then out it spake the king again, An' a scornfu' laugh laugh he: "I have an Italian i' my house, Will fight you three by three." "O grant me a boon," brave Johnny cried, "Bring your Italian here; Then if he fall beneath my sword, I've won your daughter dear." Then out it came, that Italian, An' a curious ghost was he; Upon the point o' Johnny's sword, This Italian did die. Out has he drawn his lang, lang bran', Struck it across the plain: "Is there any more o' your English dogs, That you want to be slain?" "A clerk, a clerk," the king then cried, "To write her tocher free;" "A priest, a priest," says love Johnny, "To marry my love and me. "I'm seeking nane o' your gold," he says, "Nor of your silver clear; I only seek your daughter fair, Whose love hast cost her dear." KEMP OWYNE |Her mother died when she was young, Which gave her cause to make great moan; Her father married the worst woman That ever lived in Christendom. She served her with foot and hand,