D
Communicated by Mr George M. Richardson, as learned by a lady in northern New Hampshire more than fifty years ago from an aged aunt.
1
Three loving brothers in Scotland dwelt,
Three loving brothers were they,
And they cast lots to see which of the three
Should go robbing all oer the salt sea, salt sea,
Should go robbing all oer the salt sea.
2
The lot it fell to Andrew Bodee,
The youngest of the three,
That he should leave the other two,
And go robbing all oer the salt sea.
A. b.
31. a sailed three winter’s nights.
32. When a little before the day.
33. He spied the king his gay gallant ship.
4. Wanting.
5.
‘Stand off! Stand off!’ the captain he cried,
‘The life-guards they are aboard;
My cannons are loaden with powder and shot,
And every man hath a sword.’
7.
They merrily fought for three long hours,
They fought for hours full three,
And many a blow dealt many a wound,
As they fought on the salt, salt sea.
8.
’Twas a broadside to a broadside then,
And at it the which should win;
A shot in the gallant ship bored a hole,
And then did the water rush in.
9. Wanting.
103. of the life-guards.
104. O the tidings be sad that I bring.
B. b.
1
In Scotland there lived three brothers of late,
In Scotland there lived brothers three;
Now the youngest cast lots with the other two,
Which should go rob on the salt sea.
2
The lot it did fall to bold Henry Martin,
The youngest of all the three,
And he had to turn robber all on the salt seas,
To maintain his two brothers and he.
3
He had not been sailing past a long winter’s night,
Past a long winter’s night before day,
Before he espied a lofty fine ship
Come sailing all on the salt sea.
4
‘O where are you bound for?’ cried Henry Martin,
‘O where are you bound for?’ cried he;
‘I’m a rich-loaded ship bound for fair England,
I pray you to let me pass free.’
5
‘O no! O no!’ cried Henry Martin,
‘O no! that can never be,
Since I have turned robber all on the salt sea,
To maintain my two brothers and me.
6
‘Heave down your main tack, likewise your main tie,
And lig yourself under my lee;
For your rich glowing gold I will take it away,
And your fair bodies drown in the salt sea.’
7
Then broadside to broadside they merrily fought,
For fully two hours or three,
When by chance Henry Martin gave her a broadside,
And right down to the bottom went she.
8
Bad news, bad news unto old England,
Bad news I tell unto thee;
For your rich glowing gold is all wasted away,
And your mariners are drownd in the salt sea.
c.
1
There lived three brothers in merry Scotland,
In merry Scotland lived brothers three,
And they did cast lots which should rob on the sea,
To maintain his two brothers and he.
2
And the lot it did light on Henry Martin,
The youngest of all the brothers three,
And he went a roaming on the salt sea,
To maintain his two brothers and he.
3
And when they had sailëd five days and more
On a rich merchant-ship coming down they then bore,
As he went a roaming on the salt sea,
To maintain his two brothers and he.
4
The rich merchant-ship got wounded by he,
And right down to the bottom of the salt sea went she,
As he went a roaming on the salt sea,
To maintain his two brothers and he.
B. c.
12. three brothers.
C.
14. sould may possibly be wuld.
23, 41, 61. Oh.
251
LANG JOHNNY MORE
‘Lang Johnny Moir,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 248.
‘Lang Johnny More,’ Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 44, is epitomized from Buchan, “with a few alterations from the way the editor has heard it sung.” The variations are absolutely of no account, as in other cases in which Christie has used this phrase.
Johnny More, a youth fourteen feet tall and three yards round the waist, goes to London to bear the king’s banner. He falls in love with the king’s daughter, and she with him, and the king locks the lady up in her chamber and swears that he will hang the Scot. Johnny laughs at the hanging; but the English give him laudanum, and when he wakes he finds his jaws and hands in iron bands and his feet in fetters. He sends a boy with a letter asking his uncle to come to his aid, and to bring with him Jock o Noth. These champions, ‘twa grizly ghosts to see,’ have three feet between their brows and three yards between their shoulders. Coming to London they find the gates locked, because, as they learn from a keeper, a Scot is to be hanged that morn. The keeper declining to open the gates, Jock o Noth drives in three yards of the wall with his foot. Johnny More is standing with the rope round his neck, ready to be turned off. Though the portentous pair have a giant’s strength, they are quite too superior to use it like a giant; they tell Johnny that there is no help for him if he has been guilty of a heinous crime. Learning that his only crime is loving a gay lady, they require that his sword shall be given back to him, then go before the king and demand the lady; they have come to her wedding. Take her, says the king. I never thought to see such men. Jock of Noth could have brought a man thrice three times bigger, if he had supposed that his own size would cause such astonishment. Any way, says the craven king, the boy that took the message shall be hanged. In that case, replies Jock, we shall attend the burial and see that you get your reward. The king yields everything. Johnny More calls for a priest to join him and his love; the king for a clerk to seal the tocher. Johnny is rich, and spurns tocher. Auld Johnny More, Young Johnny More, Jock o Noth and the boy go off with the lady.
This ballad has been referred to under No 99, II, 378, as perhaps an imitation, and in fact almost a parody, of ‘Johnie Scot.’ In No 99 John is the little Scot; here he is the muckle Scot, stanza 6 (Gaelic mor==big), and his helpmates, as well as he, are of gigantic size. Excepting in this and one other particular, the stories are materially the same. In both Johnie goes to England to bear the king’s banner; a love-affair ensues between him and the king’s daughter; the king puts his daughter into confinement, and threatens to hang Johnie, but in the end is constrained to give him his daughter; Johnie calls for a priest to marry him and the princess, the king calls for a clerk to arrange the tocher; Johnie refuses tocher, and goes off with his love or bride.
In No 99 Johnie, who has escaped, comes to the rescue of the princess with a redoubtable force; in this ballad Johnie is made prisoner, and sends for his uncle and another giant to come to his help. Their monstrous dimensions make them, for ballad-purposes, fairly equivalent to the five hundred men who accompany Johnie in No 99.
Some versions of No 99, as already remarked, have borrowed features from this ballad. Auld Johnie and Jock o Noth are presented here, stanza 21, as twa grizly ghosts to see, and their brows are three feet apart, their shoulders three yards; and so with the champion in A, H, L, of No 99.
Quite curiously, the hero of the Breton ballad which resembles ‘Johnie Scot’ is described as a giant (we must suppose on traditionary authority) in the title of two copies.
Auchindoir and Rhynie (parishes) are in the west of Aberdeenshire, north of the Don. Noth is a considerable hill in the latter.
1
There lives a man in Rynie’s land,
Anither in Auchindore,
The bravest lad amo them a’
Was lang Johnny Moir.
2
Young Johnny was an airy blade,
Fu sturdy, stout, and strang;
The sword that hang by Johnny’s side
Was just full ten feet lang.
3
Young Johnny was a clever youth,
Fu sturdy, stout, and wight,
Just full three yards around the waist,
And fourteen feet in hight.
4
But if a’ be true they tell me now,
And a’ be true I hear,
Young Johnny’s on to Lundan gane,
The king’s banner to bear.
5
He hadna been in fair Lundan
But twalmonths twa or three
Till the fairest lady in a’ Lundan
Fell in love wi young Johnny.
6
This news did sound thro Lundan town,
Till it came to the king
That the muckle Scot had fa’in in love
Wi his daughter, Lady Jean.
7
Whan the king got word o that,
A solemn oath sware he,
This weighty Scot sall strait a rope,
And hanged he shall be.
8
When Johnny heard the sentence past,
A light laugh then gae he:
‘While I hae strength to wield my blade,
Ye darena a’ hang me.’
9
The English dogs were cunning rogues;
About him they did creep,
And gae him draps o lodomy
That laid him fast asleep.
10
Whan Johnny wakend frae his sleep
A sorry heart had he;
His jaws and hands in iron bands,
His feet in fetters three.
11
‘O whar will I get a little wee boy
Will work for meat and fee,
That will rin on to my uncle,
At the foot of Benachie?’
12
‘Here am I, a little wee boy
Will work for meat and fee,
That will rin on to your uncle,
At the foot of Benachie.’
13
‘Whan ye come whar grass grows green,
Slack your shoes and rin;
And whan ye come whar water’s strong,
Ye’ll bend your bow and swim.
14
‘And whan ye come to Benachie
Ye’ll neither chap nor ca;
Sae well’s ye’ll ken auld Johnny there,
Three feet abeen them a’.
15
‘Ye’ll gie to him this braid letter,
Seald wi my faith and troth,
And ye’ll bid him bring alang wi him
The body Jock o Noth.’
16
Whan he came whar grass grew green,
He slackt his shoes and ran;
And whan he came whar water’s strong
He bent his bow and swam.
17
And whan he came to Benachie
Did neither chap nor ca;
Sae well’s he kent auld Johnny there,
Three feet abeen them a’.
18
‘What news, what news, my little wee boy?
Ye never were here before;’
‘Nae news, nae news, but a letter from
Your nephew, Johnny Moir.
19
‘Ye’ll take here this braid letter,
Seald wi his faith and troth,
And ye’re bidden bring alang wi you
The body Jock o Noth.’
20
Benachie lyes very low,
The tap o Noth lyes high;
For a’ the distance that’s between,
He heard auld Johnny cry.
21
Whan on the plain these champions met,
Twa grizly ghosts to see,
There were three feet between their brows,
And shoulders were yards three.
22
These men they ran ower hills and dales,
And ower mountains high,
Till they came on to Lundan town,
At the dawn o the third day.
23
And whan they came to Lundan town
The yetts were lockit wi bands,
And wha were there but a trumpeter,
Wi trumpet in his hands?
24
‘What is the matter, ye keepers all?
Or what’s the matter within
That the drums do beat and bells do ring,
And make sic dolefu din?’
25
‘There’s naething the matter,’ the keeper said,
‘There’s naething the matter to thee,
But a weighty Scot to strait the rope,
And the morn he maun die.’
26
‘O open the yetts, ye proud keepers,
Ye’ll open without delay;’
The trembling keeper, smiling, said,
‘O I hae not the key.’
27
‘Ye’ll open the yetts, ye proud keepers,
Ye’ll open without delay,
Or here is a body at my back
Frae Scotland has brought the key.’
28
‘Ye’ll open the yetts,’ says Jock o Noth,
‘Ye’ll open them at my call;’
Then wi his foot he has drove in
Three yards braid o the wall.
29
As they gaed in by Drury Lane,
And down by the town’s hall,
And there they saw young Johnny Moir
Stand on their English wall.
30
‘Ye’re welcome here, my uncle dear,
Ye’re welcome unto me;
Ye’ll loose the knot, and slack the rope,
And set me frae the tree.’
31
‘Is it for murder, or for theft?
Or is it for robberie?
If it is for ony heinous crime,
There’s nae remeid for thee.’
32
‘It’s nae for murder, nor for theft,
Nor yet for robberie;
A’ is for the loving a gay lady
They’re gaun to gar me die.’
33
‘O whar’s thy sword,’ says Jock o Noth,
‘Ye brought frae Scotland wi thee?
I never saw a Scotsman yet
But coud wield a sword or tree.’
34
‘A pox upo their lodomy,
On me had sic a sway
Four o their men, the bravest four,
They bore my blade away.’
35
‘Bring back his blade,’ says Jock o Noth,
‘And freely to him it gie,
Or I hae sworn a black Scot’s oath
I’ll gar five million die.
36
‘Now whar’s the lady?’ says Jock o Noth,
‘Sae fain I woud her see;’
‘She’s lockd up in her ain chamber,
The king he keeps the key.’
37
So they hae gane before the king,
With courage bauld and free;
Their armour bright cast sic a light
That almost dim’d his ee.
38
‘O whar’s the lady?’ says Jock o Noth,
‘Sae fain as I woud her see;
For we are come to her wedding,
Frae the foot o Benachie.’
39
‘O take the lady,’ said the king,
‘Ye welcome are for me;
I never thought to see sic men,
Frae the foot o Benachie.’
40
‘If I had kend,’ said Jock o Noth,
‘Ye’d wonderd sae muckle at me,
I woud hae brought ane larger far
By sizes three times three.
41
‘Likewise if I had thought I’d been
Sic a great fright to thee,
I’d brought Sir John o Erskine Park;
He’s thretty feet and three.’
42
‘Wae to the little boy,’ said the king,
‘Brought tidings unto thee!
Let all England say what they will,
High hangëd shall he be.’
43
‘O if ye hang the little wee boy
Brought tidings unto me,
We shall attend his burial,
And rewarded ye shall be.’
44
‘O take the lady,’ said the king,
‘And the boy shall be free;’
‘A priest, a priest,’ then Johnny cried,
‘To join my love and me.’
45
‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king replied,
‘To seal her tocher wi thee;’
Out it speaks auld Johnny then,
These words pronounced he:
46
‘I want nae lands and rents at hame,
I’ll ask nae gowd frae thee;
I am possessd o riches great,
Hae fifty ploughs and three;
Likewise fa’s heir to ane estate
At the foot o Benachie.
47
‘Hae ye ony masons in this place,
Or ony at your call,
That ye may now send some o them
To build your broken wall?’
48
‘Yes, there are masons in this place,
And plenty at my call;
But ye may gang frae whence ye came,
Never mind my broken wall.’
49
They’ve taen the lady by the hand
And set her prison-free;
Wi drums beating, and fifes playing,
They spent the night wi glee.
50
Now auld Johnny Moir, and young Johnny Moir,
And Jock o Noth, a’ three,
The English lady, and little wee boy,
Went a’ to Benachie.
274. hae.
252
THE KITCHIE-BOY
A. Skene MS., p. 89.
B. ‘Earl Richard’s Daughter,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 145.
C. ‘Bonny Foot-Boy,’ Alexander Fraser Tytler’s Brown MS., No 7.
D. ‘The Kitchie-Boy,’ Harris MS., fol. 21.
E. ‘Willie, the Kitchie-Boy,’ Joseph Robertson’s Note-Book, ‘Adversaria,’ p. 88.
A lady of birth falls in love with her father’s kitchen-boy (foot-boy, C). She makes her passion known to him. He begs for secrecy, for her father would hang him; this is quite too likely, and she would be sent to a nunnery. The danger quickens her wits: she will send him off in a fine ship, and he can come back ‘like some earl or baron’s son’ and marry her (C). Being well provided with gold, her mother’s legacy, she has no difficulty in carrying out her plan; a very noble ship is provided, and she gives Willie (B, C, E) a ring to mind him of her. She warns him, C 8, E 13, that there are pressing reasons why he should not stay away very long. After a voyage of from three weeks to twelve months, Willie lands at London, A, E; in Spain, B, C, D. A lady, looking over her castle-wall, sees the ship coming in, and goes down to the shore with her maries to invite the master to dine. The master excuses himself; she asks him if he can fancy her; the woman he loves is far over the sea; the fairest woman in Scotland would break her heart if he should not return to her. The Spanish (or English) lady offers him a rich ring, to wear for her sake; he has a ring on his finger which is far dearer than any she could give him. He sails homeward; the lady’s father sees the ship coming in, and is as much impressed as his daughter could desire; he thinks some man of mark must be aboard, and tells his daughter to busk herself, for he means to ask the squire or lord to dine; he would give all his rents to have this same marry his daughter. Willie blackens or paints or masks or veils his face, and goes with the father to the castle. He asks the lady if she can fancy him; her father asks her if she will marry this lord, C. The man is far over sea that shall have her love, she replies. Willie hands her the ring which she had given him. Gat ye that by sea? or gat ye that by land? or gat ye it on the Spanish coast upon a dead man’s hand? He gat it on a drowned man’s hand. Alas! she cries, my true-love Willie! Upon this, Willie reveals himself. The father calls for a priest, little knowing that this lord was his own kitchen-boy.
The ballad is a modern “adaptation” of ‘King Horn,’ No 17, from which A 33, 34, B 47, D 7, 8, are taken outright. In the particular of the hero’s having his choice of two women it is more like the gest of ‘King Horn,’ or ‘Horn Childe and Maiden Rimnild;’ but an independent invention of the Spanish lady is not beyond the humble ability of the composer of ‘The Kitchie-Boy.’