21 His mother’s parrot in window sat, She whistled and she sang, And aye the owerturn o the note, ‘Young Johnnie’s biding lang.’ 22 When this reached the king’s own ears, It grievd him wondrous sair; Says, I’d rather they’d hurt my subjects all Than Johnnie o Cocklesmuir. 23 ‘But where are all my wall-wight men, That I pay meat and fee, Will gang the morn to Johnnie’s castle, See how the cause may be.’ 24 Then he’s calld Johnnie up to court, Treated him handsomelie, And now to hunt in the Bride’s Braidmuir, For life has license free. I Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 23. 1 Johnie rose up in a May morning, Called for water to wash his hands, hands And he is awa to Braidisbanks, To ding the dun deer down. down To ding the dun deer down 2 Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west, And it’s lang before the sun, And there he did spy the dun deer lie, Beneath a bush of brume. 3 Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap, And he’s woundit her in the side; Out then spake his sister’s son, ‘And the neist will lay her pride.’ * * * * * 4 They’ve eaten sae meikle o the gude venison, And they’ve drunken sae muckle o the blude, That they’ve fallen into as sound a sleep As gif that they were dead. * * * * * 5 ‘It’s doun, and it’s doun, and it’s doun, doun, And it’s doun amang the scrogs, And there ye’ll espy twa bonnie boys lie, Asleep amang their dogs.’ * * * * * 6 They waukened Johnie out o his sleep, And he’s drawn to him his coat: ‘My fingers five, save me alive, And a stout heart fail me not!’ * * * * * J Chambers’s Scottish Ballads, p. 181, stanzas 13, 16, 17, 21, 22, 23, 26: from the recitation of a lady resident at Peebles. 1 His coat was o the scarlet red, His vest was o the same; His stockings were o the worset lace, And buckles tied to the same. 2 Out then spoke one, out then spoke two, Out then spoke two or three; Out spoke the master forester, ‘It’s Johnie o Braidislee. 3 ‘If this be true, thou silly auld man, Which you tell unto me, Five hundred pounds of yearly rent It shall not pay your fee.’ * * * * * 4 ‘O wae be to you seven foresters! I wonder ye dinna think shame, You being seven sturdy men, And I but a man my lane. 5 ‘Now fail me not, my ten fingers, That are both long and small! Now fail me not, my noble heart! For in thee I trust for all. 6 ‘Now fail me not, my good bend bow, That was in London coft! Now fail me not, my golden string, Which my true lover wrocht!’ * * * * *