{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/eng/child/ch169.htm","path":"neu/eng/child/ch169.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/child/ch169.htm","text":"169A.1 THERE dwelt a man in faire Westmerland,\nIonn Armestrong men did him call,\nHe had nither lands nor rents coming in,\nYet he kept eight score men in his hall.\n169A.2 He had horse and harness for them all,\nGoodly steeds were all milke-white;\nO the golden bands an about their necks,\nAnd their weapons, they were all alike.\n169A.3 Newes then was brought unto the king\nThat there was sicke a won as hee,\nThat liv d lyke a bold out-law,\nAnd robb d all the north country.\n169A.4 The king he writt an a letter then,\nA letter which was large and long;\nHe sign d it with his owne hand,\nAnd he promised to doe him no wrong.\n169A.5 When this letter came Ionn untill,\nHis heart it was as blythe as birds on the tree:\n\u2018Never was I sent for before any king,\nMy father, my grandfather, nor none but mee.\n169A.6 \u2018And if wee goe the king before,\nI would we went most orderly;\nEvery man of you shall have his scarlet cloak,\nLaced with silver laces three.\n169A.7 \u2018Every won of you shall have his velvett coat,\nLaced with silver lace so white;\nO the golden bands an about your necks,\nBlack hatts, white feathers, all alyke.\u2019\n169A.8 By the morrow morninge at ten of the clock,\nTowards Edenburough gon was hee,\nAnd with him all his eight score men;\nGood lord, it was a goodly sight for to see!\n169A.9 When Ionn came befower the king,\nHe fell downe on his knee;\n\u2018O pardon, my soveraigne leige,\u2019 he said,\n\u2018O pardon my eight score men and mee!\u2019\n169A.10 \u2018Thou shalt have no pardon, thou traytor strong,\nFor thy eight score men nor thee;\nFor to-morrow morning by ten of the clock,\nBoth thou and them shall hang on the gallow-tree.\u2019\n169A.11 But Ionn looke\u2019d over his left shoulder,\nGood Lord, what a grevious look looked hee!\nSaying, Asking grace of a graceles face-+--+-\nWhy there is none for you nor me.\n169A.12 But Ionn had a bright sword by his side,\nAnd it was made of the mettle so free,\nThat had not the king, stept his foot aside,\nHe had smitten his head from his faire bodd .\n169A.13 Saying, Fight on, my merry men all,\nAnd see that none of you be taine;\nFor rather then men shall say we were hange\u2019d,\nLet them report how we were slaine.\n169A.14 Then, God wott, faire Eddenburrough rose,\nAnd so besett poore Ionn rounde,\nThat fowerscore and tenn of Ionn s best men\nLay gasping all upon the ground.\n169A.15 Then like a mad man Ionn laide about,\nAnd like a mad man then fought hee,\nUntill a falce Scot came Ionn behinde,\nAnd runn him through the faire boddee.\n169A.16 Saying, Fight on, my merry men all,\nAnd see that none of you be taine;\nFor I will stand by and bleed but awhile,\nAnd then will I come and fight againe.\n169A.17 Newes then was brought to young Ionn Armestrong,\nAs he stood by his nurses knee,\nWho vowed if ere he live\u2019d for to be a man,\nO the treacherous Scots revengd hee\u2019d be.\n169B: Johnie Armstrong\n169B.1 IS there never a man in all Scotland,\nFrom the highest state to the lowest degree,\nThat can shew himself now before the king?\nScotland is so full of their traitery.\n169B.2 Yes, there is a man in Westmerland,\nAnd John Armstrong some do him call;\nHe has no lands nor rents coming in,\nYet he keeps eightscore men within his hall.\n169B.3 He has horse and harness for them all,\nAnd goodly steeds that be milk-white,\nWith their goodly belts about their necks,\nWith hats and feathers all alike.\n169B.4 The king he writ a lovely letter,\nWith his own hand so tenderly,\nAnd has sent it unto John Armstrong,\nTo come and speak with him speedily.\n169B.5 When John he looked the letter upon,\nThen, Lord! he was as blithe as a bird in a tree:\n\u2018I was never before no king in my life,\nMy father, my grandfather, nor none of us three.\n169B.6 \u2018But seeing we must [go] before the king,\nLord! we will go most valiantly;\nYou shall every one have a velvet coat,\nLaid down with golden laces three.\n169B.7 \u2018And you shall every one have a scarlet cloak,\nLaid down with silver laces five,\nWith your golden belts about your necks,\nWith hats [and] brave feathers all alike.\u2019\n169B.8 But when John he went from Guiltknock Hall!\nThe wind it blew hard, and full sore it did rain:\n\u2018Now fare you well, brave Guiltknock Hall!\nI fear I shall never see thee again.\u2019\n169B.9 Now John he is to Edenborough gone,\nAnd his eightscore men so gallantly,\nAnd every one of them on a milk-white steed,\nWith their bucklers and swords hanging down to the knee.\n169B.10 But when John he came the king before,\nWith his eightscore men so gallant to see,\nThe king he moved his bonnet to him;\nHe thought he had been a king as well as he.\n169B.11 \u2018O pardon, pardon, my soveraign leige,\nPardon for my eightscore men and me!\nFor my name it is John Armstrong,\nAnd a subject of yours, my leige,\u2019 said he.\n169B.12 \u2018Away with thee, thou false traitor!\nNo pardon I will grant to thee,\nBut, to-morrow before eight of the clock,\nI will hang thy eightscore men and thee.\u2019\n169B.13 O how John looked over his left shoulder!\nAnd to his merry men thus said he:\nI have asked grace of a graceless face,\nNo pardon here is for you nor me.\n169B.14 Then John pulld out a nut-brown sword,\nAnd it was made of mettle so free;\nHad not the king moved his foot as he did,\nJohn had taken his head from his body.\n169B.15 \u2018Come, follow me, my merry men all,\nWe will scorn one foot away to fly;\nIt never shall be said we were hung like doggs;\nNo, wee\u2019l fight it out most manfully.\u2019\n169B.16 Then they fought on like champions bold-+--+-\nFor their hearts was sturdy, stout, and free-+--+-\nTill they had killed all the kings good guard;\nThere was none left alive but onely three.\n169B.17 But then rise up all Edenborough,\nThey rise up by thousands three;\nThen a cowardly Scot came John behind,\nAnd run him thorow the fair body.\n169B.18 Said John, Fight on, my merry men all,\nI am a little hurt, but I am not slain;\nI will lay me down for to bleed a while,\nThen I\u2019le rise and fight with you again.\n169B.19 Then they fought on like mad men all,\nTill many a man lay dead on the plain;\nFor they were resolved, before they would yield,\nThat every man would there be slain.\n169B.20 So there they fought couragiously,\n\u2019Till most of them lay dead there and slain,\nBut little Musgrave, that was his foot-page,\nWith his bonny grissell got away untain.\n169B.21 But when he came up to Guiltknock Hall,\nThe lady spyed him presently:\n\u2018What news, what news, thou little foot-page?\nWhat news from thy master and his company?\u2019\n169B.22 \u2018My news is bad, lady,\u2019 he said,\n\u2018Which I do bring, as you may see;\nMy master, John Armstrong, he is slain,\nAnd all his gallant company.\n169B.23 \u2018Yet thou are welcome home, my bonny grisel!\nFull oft thou hast fed at the corn and hay,\nBut now thou shalt be fed with bread and wine,\nAnd thy sides shall be spurred no more, I say.\u2019\n169B.24 O then bespoke his little son,\nAs he was set on his nurses knee:\n\u2018If ever I live for to be a man,\nMy fathers blood revenged shall be.\u2019\n169C: Johnie Armstrong\n169C.1 SUM speiks of lords, sum speiks of lairds,\nAnd siclyke men of hie degrie;\nOf a gentleman I sing a sang,\nSumtyme calld Laird of Gilnockie.\n169C.2 The king he wrytes a luving letter,\nWith his ain hand sae tenderly:\nAnd he hath sent it to Johny Armstrang,\nTo cum and speik with him speidily.\n169C.3 The Eliots and Armstrangs did convene,\nThey were a gallant company:\n\u2018We\u2019ill ryde and meit our lawful king,\nAnd bring him safe to Gilnockie.\n169C.4 \u2018Make kinnen and capon ready, then,\nAnd venison in great plenty;\nWe\u2019ill welcome hame our royal king;\nI hope he\u2019ill dyne at Gilnockie!\u2019\n169C.5 They ran their horse on the Langum howm,\nAnd brake their speirs with mekle main;\nThe ladys lukit frae their loft-windows,\n\u2018God bring our men weil back again!\u2019\n169C.6 When Johny came before the king,\nWith all his men sae brave to see,\nThe king he movit his bonnet to him;\nHe weind he was a king as well as he.\n169C.7 \u2018May I find grace, my sovereign liege,\nGrace for my loyal men and me?\nFor my name it is Johny Armstrang,\nAnd subject of yours, my liege,\u2019 said he.\n169C.8 \u2018Away, away, thou traytor, strang!\nOut of my sicht thou mayst sune be!\nI grantit never a traytors lyfe,\nAnd now I\u2019ll not begin with thee.\u2019\n169C.9 \u2018Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king,\nAnd a bony gift I will give to thee;\nFull four-and-twenty milk-whyt steids,\nWere a\u2019 foald in a yeir to me.\n169C.10 \u2018I\u2019ll gie thee all these milk-whyt steids,\nThat prance and nicher at a speir,\nWith as mekle gude Inglis gilt\nAs four of their braid backs dow beir.\u2019\n169C.11 \u2018Away, away, thou traytor strang!\nOut o\u2019 my sicht thou mayst sune be!\nI grantit never a traytors lyfe,\nAnd now I\u2019ll not begin with thee.\u2019\n169C.12 \u2018Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king,\nAnd a bony gift I\u2019ll gie to thee;\nGude four-and-twenty ganging mills,\nThat gang throw a\u2019 the yeir to me.\n169C.13 \u2018These four-and-twenty mills complete\nSall gang for thee throw all the yeir,\nAnd as mekle of gude reid wheit\nAs all their happers dow to bear.\u2019\n169C.14 \u2018Away, away, thou traytor, strang!\nOut of my sicht thou mayst sune be!\nI grantit never a traytors lyfe,\nAnd now I\u2019ll not begin with thee.\u2019\n169C.15 \u2018Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king,\nAnd a great gift I\u2019ll gie to thee;\nBauld four-and-twenty sisters sons,\nSall for the fecht, tho all sould flee.\u2019\n169C.16 \u2018Away, away, thou traytor, strang!\nOut of my sicht thou mayst sune be!\nI grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,\nAnd now I\u2019ll not begin with thee.\u2019\n169C.17 \u2018Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king,\nAnd a brave gift I\u2019ll gie to thee;\nAll betwene heir and Newcastle town\nSall pay thair yeirly rent to thee.\u2019\n169C.18 \u2018Away, away, thou traytor, strang!\nOut of my sicht thou mayst sune be!\nI grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,\nAnd now I\u2019ll not begin with thee.\u2019\n169C.19 \u2018Ye lied, ye lied, now, king,\u2019 he says,\n\u2018Althocht a king and prince ye be,\nFor I luid naithing in all my lyfe,\nI dare well say it, but honesty;\n169C.20 \u2018But a fat horse, and a fair woman,\nTwa bony dogs to kill a deir:\nBut Ingland suld haif found me meil and malt,\nGif I had livd this hundred yeir!\n169C.21 \u2018Scho suld haif found me meil and malt,\nAnd beif and mutton in all plentie;\nBut neir a Scots wyfe could haif said\nThat eir I skaithd her a pure flie.\n169C.22 \u2018To seik het water beneth cauld yce,\nSurely it is a great folie;\nI haif asked grace at a graceless face,\nBut there is nane for my men and me.\n169C.23 \u2018But had I kend, or I came frae hame,\nHow thou unkynd wadst bene to me,\nI wad haif kept the border-syde,\nIn spyte of all thy force and thee.\n169C.24 \u2018Wist Englands king that I was tane,\nO gin a blyth man wald he be!\nFor anes I slew his sisters son,\nAnd on his breist-bane brak a tree.\u2019\n169C.25 John wore a girdle about his midle,\nImbroiderd owre with burning gold,\nBespangled with the same mettle,\nMaist beautifull was to behold.\n169C.26 Ther hang nine targats at Johnys hat,\nAnd ilk an worth three hundred pound:\n\u2018What wants that knave that a king suld haif,\nBut the sword of honour and the crown!\n169C.27 \u2018O whair gat thou these targats, Johnie,\nThat blink sae brawly abune thy brie?\u2019\n\u2018I gat them in the field fechting,\nWher, cruel king, thou durst not be.\n169C.28 \u2018Had I my horse, and my harness gude,\nAnd ryding as I wont to be,\nIt sould haif bene tald this hundred yeir\nThe meiting of my king and me.\n169C.29 \u2018God be withee, Kirsty, my brither,\nLang live thou Laird of Mangertoun!\nLang mayst thou live on the border-syde\nOr thou se thy brither ryde up and doun.\n169C.30 \u2018And God be withee, Kirsty, my son,\nWhair thou sits on thy nurses knee!\nBut and thou live this hundred yeir,\nThy fathers better thoult never be.\n169C.31 \u2018Farweil, my bonny Gilnock-Hall,\nWhair on Esk-syde thou standest stout!\nGif I had lived but seven yeirs mair,\nI wald haif gilt thee round about.\u2019\n169C.32 John murdred was at Carlinrigg,\nAnd all his galant companie;\nBut Scotlands heart was never sae wae,\nTo see sae mony brave men die.\n169C.33 Because they savd their country deir\nFrae Englishmen; nane were sae bauld,\nWhyle Johnie livd on the border-syde,\nNane of them durst cum neir his hald.","title":"The Child Ballads: 169. Johnie Armstrong","type":"page"}