Chapter VI: Appendix (2)

The earliest edition of the ballad styles the gypsy Johny Faa, but gives no clew to the fair lady. Johnny Faa was a prominent and frequent name among the gypsies. Johnnë Faw’s right and title as lord and earl of Little Egypt were recognized by James V in a document under the Privy Seal, February 15, 1540, and we learn from this paper that, even before this date, letters had been issued to the king’s officers, enjoining them to assist Johnnë Faw “in execution of justice upon his company and folks, conform to the laws of Egypt, and in punishing of all them that rebels against him.” But in the next year, by an act of the Lords of Council, June 6, Egyptians are ordered to quit the realm within thirty days on pain of death, notwithstanding any other letters or privileges granted them by the king, his grace having discharged the same. The gypsies were expelled from Scotland by act of Parliament in 1609. Johnnë, _alias_ Willie, Faa, with three others of the name, remaining notwithstanding, were sentenced to be hanged, 1611, July 31. In 1615, January 25, a man was delated for harboring of Egyptians, “specially of Johnnë Fall, a notorious Egyptian and chieftain of that unhappy sort of people.” In 1616, July 24, Johnnë Faa, Egyptian, his son, and two others were condemned to be hanged for contemptuous repairing to the country and abiding therein. Finally, in 1624, January 24, Captain Johnnë Faa and seven others were sentenced to be hanged for the same offence, and on the following 29th Helen Faa, relict of the late Captain Johnnë Faa, with ten other women, was sentenced to be drowned, but execution was stayed. Eight men were executed, but the rest, “being either children and of less-age and women with child or giving suck to children,” were, after imprisonment, banished the country under pain of death, to be inflicted without further process should they be found within the kingdom after a day fixed.[43] The execution of the notorious Egyptian and chieftain Johnny Faa must have made a considerable impression, and it is presumable that this ballad may have arisen not long after. Whether this were so or not, Johnny Faa acquired popular fame, and became a personage to whom any adventure might plausibly be imputed. It is said that he has even been foisted into ‘The Douglas Tragedy’ (‘Earl Brand’), and Scott had a copy of ‘Captain Car’ in which, as in #F#, #G#, of that ballad, the scene was transferred to Ayrshire, and the incendiary was called Johnny Faa.[44]

Toward the end of the last century we begin to hear that the people in Ayrshire make the wife of the Earl of Cassilis the heroine of the ballad. This name, under the instruction of Burns, was adopted into the copy in Johnson’s Museum (which, as to the rest, is Ramsay’s), and in the index to the second volume of the Museum, 1788, we read, “neighboring tradition strongly vouches for the truth of this story.” After this we get the tradition in full, of course with considerable variety in the details, and sometimes with criticism, sometimes without.[45]

The main points in the traditional story are that John, sixth earl of Cassilis, married, for his first wife, Lady Jean Hamilton, whose affections were preëngaged to one Sir John Faa, of Dunbar. Several years after, when Lady Cassilis had become the mother of two children,[46] Sir John Faa took the opportunity of the earl’s absence from home (while Lord Cassilis was attending the Westminster Assembly, say some) to present himself at the castle, accompanied by a band of gypsies and himself disguised as a gypsy, and induced his old love to elope with him. But the earl returned in the nick of time, went in pursuit, captured the whole party, or all but one,[47] who is supposed to tell the story, and hanged them, on the dule tree, “a most umbrageous plane, which yet flourishes upon a mound in front of the castle gate.” The fugitive wife was banished from board and bed, and confined for life in a tower at Maybole, built for the purpose. “Eight heads carved in stone below one of the turrets are said to be the effigies of so many of the gypsies.”[48] The ford by which the lady and her lover crossed the River Doon is still called The Gypsies’ Steps.

Several accounts put the abduction at the time when the Earl of Cassilis was attending the Assembly of Divines at Westminster. This was in September, 1643. It is now known that Lady Cassilis died in December, 1642. What is much more important, it is known from two letters written by the earl immediately after her death that nothing could have occurred of a nature to alienate his affection, for in the one he speaks of her as a “dear friend” and “beloved yoke-fellow,” and in the other as his “dear bed-fellow.”[49]

“Seldom, when stripped of extraneous matter, has tradition been better supported than it has been in the case of Johnie Faa and the Countess of Cassilis:” Maidment, Scotish Ballads, 1868, II, 184. In a sense not intended, this is quite true; most of the traditions which have grown out of ballads have as slight a foundation as this. The connection of the ballad with the Cassilis family (as Mr Macmath has suggested to me) may possibly have arisen from the first line of some copy reading, ‘The gypsies came to the castle-gate.’ As #F# 1^3 has perverted Earl of Cassilis to Earl of Castle, so Castle may have been corrupted into Cassilis.[50]

Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 28, translates freely eight stanzas from Aytoun.

* * * * *

A

Ramsay’s Tea-Table Miscellany, vol. iv, 1740. Here from the London
edition of 1763, p. 427.

1
The gypsies came to our good lord’s gate,
And wow but they sang sweetly!
They sang sae sweet and sae very compleat
That down came the fair lady.

2
And she came tripping down the stair,
And a’ her maids before her;
As soon as they saw her well-far’d face,
They coost the glamer oer her.

3
‘Gae tak frae me this gay mantile,
And bring to me a plaidie;
For if kith and kin and a’ had sworn,
I’ll follow the gypsie laddie.

4
‘Yestreen I lay in a well-made bed,
And my good lord beside me;
This night I’ll ly in a tenant’s barn,
Whatever shall betide me.’

5
‘Come to your bed,’ says Johny Faa,
‘Oh come to your bed, my deary;
For I vow and I swear, by the hilt of my sword,
That your lord shall nae mair come near ye.’

6
‘I’ll go to bed to my Johny Faa,
I’ll go to bed to my deary;
For I vow and I swear, by what past yestreen,
That my lord shall nae mair come near me.

7
‘I’ll mak a hap to my Johnny Faa,
And I’ll mak a hap to my deary;
And he’s get a’ the coat gaes round,
And my lord shall nae mair come near me.’

8
And when our lord came hame at een,
And speir’d for his fair lady,
The tane she cry’d, and the other reply’d,
‘She’s away with the gypsie laddie.’

9
‘Gae saddle to me the black, black steed,
Gae saddle and make him ready;
Before that I either eat or sleep,
I’ll gae seek my fair lady.’

10
And we were fifteen well-made men,
Altho we were nae bonny;
And we were a’ put down for ane,
A fair young wanton lady.

* * * * *

B

#a.# The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany, being a new
series of the Scots Magazine (vol. lxxx of the entire work),
November, 1817, p. 309, communicated by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe,
as taken down from the recitation of a peasant in Galloway. #b.# A
fragment recited by Miss Fanny Walker, of Mount Pleasant, near
Newburgh-on-Tay, as communicated by Mr Alexander Laing, 1873.

1
The gypsies they came to my lord Cassilis’ yett,
And O but they sang bonnie!
They sang sae sweet and sae complete
That down came our fair ladie.

2
She came tripping down the stairs,
And all her maids before her;
As soon as they saw her weel-far’d face,
They coost their glamourie owre her.

3
She gave to them the good wheat bread,
And they gave her the ginger;
But she gave them a far better thing,
The gold ring off her finger.

4
‘Will ye go with me, my hinny and my heart?
Will ye go with me, my dearie?
And I will swear, by the staff of my spear,
That your lord shall nae mair come near thee.’

5
‘Sae take from me my silk mantel,
And bring to me a plaidie,
For I will travel the world owre
Along with the gypsie laddie.

6
‘I could sail the seas with my Jockie Faa,
I could sail the seas with my dearie;
I could sail the seas with my Jockie Faa,
And with pleasure could drown with my dearie.

7
They wandred high, they wandred low,
They wandred late and early,
Untill they came to an old tenant’s-barn,
And by this time she was weary.

8
‘Last night I lay in a weel-made bed,
And my noble lord beside me,
And now I must ly in an old tenant’s-barn,
And the black crew glowring owre me.’

9
‘O hold your tongue, my hinny and my heart,
O hold your tongue, my dearie,
For I will swear, by the moon and the stars,
That thy lord shall nae mair come near thee.’

10
They wandred high, they wandred low,
They wandred late and early,
Untill they came to that wan water,
And by this time she was wearie.

11
‘Aften have I rode that wan water,
And my lord Cassilis beside me,
And now I must set in my white feet and wade,
And carry the gypsie laddie.’

12
By and by came home this noble lord,
And asking for his ladie,
The one did cry, the other did reply,
‘She is gone with the gypsie laddie.’

13
‘Go saddle to me the black,’ he says,
‘The brown rides never so speedie,
And I will neither eat nor drink
Till I bring home my ladie.’

14
He wandred high, he wandred low,
He wandred late and early,
Untill he came to that wan water,
And there he spied his ladie.

15
‘O wilt thou go home, my hinny and my heart,
O wilt thou go home, my dearie?
And I’ll close thee in a close room,
Where no man shall come near thee.’

16
‘I will not go home, my hinny and my heart,
I will not go home, my dearie;
If I have brewn good beer, I will drink of the same,
And my lord shall nae mair come near me.

17
‘But I will swear, by the moon and the stars,
And the sun that shines so clearly,
That I am as free of the gypsie gang
As the hour my mother did bear me.’

18
They were fifteen valiant men,
Black, but very bonny,
And they lost all their lives for one,
The Earl of Cassillis’ ladie.

* * * * *

C

Motherwell’s MS., p. 381, from the recitation of Agnes Lyle,
Kilbarchan, 27 July, 1825.

1
There cam singers to Earl Cassillis’ gates,
And oh, but they sang bonnie!
They sang sae sweet and sae complete,
Till down cam the earl’s lady.

2
She cam tripping down the stair,
And all her maids before her;
As soon as they saw her weel-faurd face,
They coost their glamourye owre her.

3
They gave her o the gude sweetmeats,
The nutmeg and the ginger,
And she gied them a far better thing,
Ten gold rings aff her finger.

4
‘Tak from me my silken cloak,
And bring me down my plaidie;
For it is gude eneuch,’ she said,
‘To follow a Gipsy Davy.

5
‘Yestreen I rode this water deep,
And my gude lord beside me;
But this nicht I maun set in my pretty fit and wade,
A wheen blackguards wading wi me.

6
‘Yestreen I lay in a fine feather-bed,
And my gude lord beyond me;
But this nicht I maun lye in some cauld tenant’s-barn,
A wheen blackguards waiting on me.’

7
‘Come to thy bed, my bonny Jeanie Faw,
Come to thy bed, my dearie,
For I do swear, by the top o my spear,
Thy gude lord’ll nae mair come near thee.’

8
When her good lord cam hame at nicht,
It was asking for his fair ladye;
One spak slow, and another whisperd out,
‘She’s awa wi Gipsey Davy!’

9
‘Come saddle to me my horse,’ he said,
‘Come saddle and mak him readie!
For I’ll neither sleep, eat, nor drink
Till I find out my lady.’

10
They socht her up, they socht her doun,
They socht her thro nations many,
Till at length they found her out in Abbey dale,
Drinking wi Gipsey Davy.

11
‘Rise, oh rise, my bonnie Jeanie Faw,
Oh rise, and do not tarry!
Is this the thing ye promised to me
When at first I did thee marry?’

12
They drank her cloak, so did they her goun,
They drank her stockings and her shoon,
And they drank the coat that was nigh to her smock,
And they pawned her pearled apron.

13
They were sixteen clever men,
Suppose they were na bonny;
They are a’ to be hangd on ae tree,
For the stealing o Earl Cassilis’ lady.

14
‘We are sixteen clever men,
One woman was a’ our mother;
We are a’ to be hanged on ae day,
For the stealing of a wanton lady.’

* * * * *

D

Kinloch MSS, V, 331, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton; from a
reciter who came from the vicinity of Craigievar.

1
There came Gyptians to Corse Field yeats,
Black, tho they warna bonny;
They danced so neat and they danced so fine,
Till down came the bonny lady.

2
She came trippin down the stair,
And her nine maidens afore her;
But up and starts him Johny Fa,
And he cast the glamour oer her.

3
‘Ye’ll take frae me this gay mantle,
And ye’ll gie to me a plaidie;
For I shall follow Johny Fa,
Lat weel or woe betide me.’

4
They’ve taen frae her her fine mantle,
And they’ve gaen to her a plaidie,
And she’s awa wi Johny Fa,
Whatever may betide her.

5
When they came to a wan water,
I wite it wasna bonny,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

6
‘Yestreen I wade this wan water,
And my good lord was wi me;
The night I man cast aff my shoes and wide,
And the black bands widen wi me.

7
‘Yestreen I lay in a well made bed,
And my good lord lay wi me;
The night I maun ly in a tenant’s barn,
And the black bauds lyin wi me.’

8
‘Come to yer bed,’ says Johnie Fa,
‘Come to yer bed, my dearie,
And I shall swer, by the coat that I wear,
That my hand it shall never go near thee.

9
‘I will never come to yer bed,
I will never be yer dearie;
For I think I hear his horse’s foot
That was once called my dearie.’

10
‘Come to yer bed,’ says Johny Fa,
‘Come to yer bed, my dearie,
And I shall swear, by the coat that I wear,
That my hand it shall never go oer thee.’

11
‘I will niver come to yer bed,
I will niver be yer dearie;
For I think I hear his bridle ring
That was once called my dearie.’

* * * * * *

12
When that good lord came hame at night,
He called for his lady;
The one maid said, and the other replied,
‘She’s aff wi the Gyptian laddy.’

13
‘Ye’ll saddle to me the good black steed,
Tho the brown it was never so bonny;
Before that ever I eat or drink,
I shall have back my lady.’

* * * * * *

14
‘Yestreen we were fifteen good armed men;
Tho black, we werena bonny;
The night we a’ ly slain for one,
It’s the Laird o Corse Field’s lady.’

* * * * *

E

The Scottish Gallovidian Encyclopedia, by John Mactaggart, 1824, p.
284.

1
The gypsies they came to Lord Cassle’s yet,
And O but they sang ready!
They sang sae sweet and sae complete
That down came the lord’s fair lady.

2
O she came tripping down the stair,
Wi a’ her maids afore her,
And as soon as they saw her weelfared face
They cuist their glaumry owre her.

3
She gaed to them the gude white bread,
And they gaed to her the ginger,
Then she gaed to them a far brawer thing,
The gowd rings af her finger.

4
Quo she to her maids, There’s my gay mantle,
And bring to me my plaidy,
And tell my lord whan he comes hame
I’m awa wi a gypsie laddie.

5
For her lord he had to the hounting gane,
Awa in the wild green wuddie,
And Jockie Faw, the gypsie king,
Saw him there wi his cheeks sae ruddy.

6
On they mounted, and af they rade,
Ilk gypsie had a cuddy,
And whan through the stincher they did prance
They made the water muddy.

7
Quo she, Aft times this water I hae rade,
Wi many a lord and lady,
But never afore did I it wade
To follow a gypsie laddie.

8
‘Aft hae I lain in a saft feather-bed,
Wi my gude lord aside me,
But now I maun sleep in an auld reeky kilt,
Alang wi a gypsie laddie.’

9
Sae whan that the yirl he came hame,
His servants a’ stood ready;
Some took his horse, and some drew his boots,
But gane was his fair lady.

10
And whan he came ben to the parlour-door,
He asked for his fair lady,
But some denied, and ithers some replied,
‘She’s awa wi a gypsie laddie.’

11
‘Then saddle,’ quoth he, ‘my gude black naig,
For the brown is never sae speedy;
As I will neither eat nor drink
Till I see my fair lady.

12
‘I met wi a cheel as I rade hame,
And thae queer stories said he;
Sir, I saw this day a fairy queen
Fu pack wi a gypsie laddie.

13
‘I hae been east, and I hae been west,
And in the lang town o Kircadie,
But the bonniest lass that ever I saw
Was following a gypsie laddie.’

14
Sae his lordship has rade owre hills and dales,
And owre mony a wild hie mountain,
Until that he heard his ain lady say,
‘Now my lord will be hame frae the hounting.’

15
‘Than will yon come hame, my hinnie and my love?’
Quoth he to his charming dearie,
‘And I’ll keep ye aye in a braw close room,
Where the gypsies will never can steer ye.’

16
Said she, ‘I can swear by the sun and the stars,
And the moon whilk shines sae clearie,
That I am as chaste for the gypsie Jockie Faw
As the day my minnie did bear me.’

17
‘Gif ye wad swear by the sun,’ said he,
‘And the moon, till ye wad deave me,
Ay and tho ye wad take a far bigger aith,
My dear, I wadna believe ye.

18
‘I’ll tak ye hame, and the gypsies I’ll hang,
Ay, I’ll make them girn in a wuddie,
And afterwards I’ll burn Jockie Faw,
Wha fashed himself wi my fair lady.

19
Quoth the gypsies, We’re fifteen weel-made men,
Tho the maist o us be ill bred ay,
Yet it wad be a pity we should a’ hang for ane,
Wha fashed himself wi your fair lady.

20
Quoth the lady, My lord, forgive them a’,
For they nae ill eer did ye,
And gie ten guineas to the chief, Jockie Faw,
For he is a worthy laddie.

21
The lord he hearkened to his fair dame,
And O the gypsies war glad ay!
They danced round and round their merry Jockie Faw,
And roosed the gypsie laddie.

22
Sae the lord rade hame wi his charming spouse,
Owre the hills and the haughs sae whunnie,
And the gypsies slade down by yon bonny burn-side,
To beek themsells there sae sunnie.

* * * * *

F

The Songs of England and Scotland [by P. Cunningham], London, 1835,
II, 346, taken down, as current in the north of England, from the
recitation of John Martin, the painter.

1
The gypsies came to the Earl o Cassilis’ gate,
And O but they sang bonnie!
They sang sae sweet and sae complete
That down cam our fair ladie.

2
And she cam tripping down the stair,
Wi her twa maids before her;
As soon as they saw her weel-far’d face,
They coost their glamer oer her.

3
‘O come wi me,’ says Johnnie Faw,
‘O come wi me, my dearie,
For I vow and swear, by the hilt of my sword,
Your lord shall nae mair come near ye.’

4
‘Here, tak frae me this gay mantile,
And gie to me a plaidie;
Tho kith and kin and a’ had sworn,
I’ll follow the gypsie laddie.

5
‘Yestreen I lay in a weel-made bed,
And my gude lord beside me;
This night I’ll lie in a tenant’s barn,
Whatever shall betide me.

6
‘Last night I lay in a weel-made bed,
Wi silken hangings round me;
But now I’ll lie in a farmer’s barn,
Wi the gypsies all around me.

7
‘The first ale-house that we come at,
We’ll hae a pot o brandie;
The next ale-house that we came at,
We’ll drink to gypsie Geordie.’

8
Now when our lord cam home at een,
He speir’d for his fair lady;
The ane she cried, [the] tither replied,
‘She’s awa wi the gypsie laddie.’

9
‘Gae saddle me the gude black steed;
The bay was neer sae bonnie;
For I will neither eat nor sleep
Till I be wi my lady.’

10
Then he rode east, and he rode west,
And he rode near Strabogie,
And there he found his ain dear wife,
Drinking wi gypsie Geordie.

11
‘And what made you leave your houses and land?
Or what made you leave your money?
Or what made you leave your ain wedded lord,
To follow the gypsie laddie?

12
‘Then come thee hame, my ain dear wife,
Then come thee hame, my hinnie,
And I do swear, by the hilt of my sword,
The gypsies nae mair shall come near thee.’

13
Then we were seven weel-made men,
But lack! we were nae bonnie,
And we were a’ put down for ane,
For the Earl o Cassilis’ ladie.

* * * * *

G

#a.# A broadside in the Roxburghe Ballads, III, 685, entered in the
catalogue, doubtfully, as of Newcastle upon Tyne, 1720. #b.# A
recent stall-copy, Catnach, 2 Monmouth Court, Seven Dials.

1
There was seven gypsies all in a gang,
They were brisk and bonny; O
They rode till they came to the Earl of Castle’s house,
And there they sang most sweetly. O

2
The Earl of Castle’s lady came down,
With the waiting-maid beside her;
As soon as her fair face they saw,
They called their grandmother over.

3
They gave to her a nutmeg brown,
And a race of the best ginger;
She gave to them a far better thing,
’Twas the ring from off her finger.

4
She pulld off her high-heeld shoes,
They was made of Spanish leather;
She put on her highland brog[u]es,
To follow the gypsey loddy.

5
At night when my good lord came home,
Enquiring for his lady,
The waiting-maid made this reply,
‘She’s following the gypsey loddy.’

6
‘Come saddle me my milk-white steed,
Come saddle it so bonny,
As I may go seek my own wedded wife,
That’s following the gypsey loddy.

7
‘Have you been east? have you been west?
Or have you been brisk and bonny?
Or have you seen a gay lady,
A following the gypsey loddy?’

8
He rode all that summer’s night,
And part of the next morning;
At length he spy’d his own wedded wife,
She was cold, wet, and weary.

9
‘Why did you leave your houses and land?
Or why did you leave your money?
Or why did you leave your good wedded lord,
To follow the gypsey loddy?’

10
‘O what care I for houses and land?
Or what care I for money?
So as I have brewd, so will I return;
So fare you well, my honey!’

11
There was seven gypsies in a gang,
And they was brisk and bonny,
And they’re to be hanged all on a row,
For the Earl of Castle’s lady.

* * * * *

H

Shropshire Lolk-Lore, edited by Charlotte Sophia Burne, p. 550, as
sung May 23, 1885, by gypsy children.

1
There came a gang o gipsies by,
And they was singing so merry, O
Till they gained the heart o my lady gay,
. . . . . . .

2
As soon as the lord he did come in,
Enquired for his lady, O
And some o the sarvants did-a reply,
‘Her’s away wi the gipsy laddie.’ O

3
‘O saddle me the bay, and saddle me the grey,
Till I go and sarch for my lady;’
And some o the sarvants did-a reply,
‘Her’s away wi the gipsy laddie.’

4
And he rode on, and he rode off,
Till he came to the gipsies’ tentie,
And there he saw his lady gay,
By the side o the gipsy laddie.

5
‘Didn’t I leave you houses and land?
And didn’t I leave you money?
Didn’t I leave you three pretty babes
As ever was in yonder green island?’

6
‘What care I for houses and land?
And what care I for money?
What do I care for three pretty babes?’
. . . . . . .

7
‘The tother night you was on a feather bed,
Now you’re on a straw one,’
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

* * * * *

I

From Miss Margaret Reburn, “as sung in County Meath, Ireland, about
1860.”

1
There come seven gypsies on a day,
Oh, but they sang bonny! O
And they sang so sweet, and they sang so clear,
Down cam the earl’s ladie. O

2
They gave to her the nutmeg,
And they gave to her the ginger;
But she gave to them a far better thing,
The seven gold rings off her fingers.

3
When the earl he did come home,
Enquiring for his ladie,
One of the servants made this reply,
‘She’s awa with the gypsie lad[d]ie.’

4
‘Come saddle for me the brown,’ he said,
‘For the black was neer so speedy,
And I will travel night and day
Till I find out my ladie.

5
‘Will you come home, my dear?’ he said,
‘Oh will you come home, my honey?
And, by the point of my broad sword,
A hand I’ll neer lay on you.’

6
‘Last night I lay on a good feather-bed,
And my own wedded lord beside me,
And tonight I’ll lie in the ash-corner,
With the gypsies all around me.

7
‘They took off my high-heeled shoes,
That were made of Spanish leather,
And I have put on coarse Lowland brogues,
To trip it oer the heather.’

8
‘The Earl of Cashan is lying sick;
Not one hair I’m sorry;
I’d rather have a kiss from his fair lady’s lips
Than all his gold and his money.’

* * * * *

J

#a.# Written down by Newton Pepoun, as learned from a boy with whom
he went to school in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, about 1845. #b.#
From the singing of Mrs Farmer, born in Maine, as learned by her
daughter, about 1840.

1
There was a gip came oer the land,
He sung so sweet and gaily;
He sung with glee, neath the wild wood tree,
He charmed the great lord’s lady.
Ring a ding a ding go ding go da,
Ring a ding a ding go da dy,
Ring a ding a ding go ding go da,
She’s gone with the gipsey Davy.

2
The lord he came home late that night;
Enquiring for his lady,
‘She’s gone, she’s gone,’ said his old servant-man,
‘She’s gone with the gipsey Davy.’

3
‘Go saddle me my best black mare;
The grey is neer so speedy;
For I’ll ride all night, and I’ll ride all day,
Till I overtake my lady.’

4
Riding by the river-side,
The grass was wet and dewy;
Seated with her gipsey lad,
It’s there he spied his lady.

5
‘Would you forsake your house and home?
Would you forsake your baby?
Would you forsake your own true love,
And go with the gipsey Davy?’

6
‘Yes, I’ll forsake my house and home,
Yes, I’ll forsake my baby;
What care I for my true love?
I love the gipsey Davy.’

7
The great lord he rode home that night,
He took good care of his baby,
And ere six months had passed away
He married another lady.

* * * * *

K

#a.# From Mrs Helena Titus Brown of New York. #b.# From Miss Emma A.
Clinch of New York. Derived, 1820, or a little later, #a# directly,
#b# indirectly, from the singing of Miss Phœbe Wood, Huntington,
Long Island, and perhaps learned from English soldiers there
stationed during the Revolutionary war.

* * * * * *

1
‘Go bring me down my high-heeled shoes,
Made of the Spanish leather,
And I’ll take off my low-heeled shoes,
And away we’ll go together.’
Lumpy dumpy linky dinky day
Lumpy dumpy linky dinky daddy

2
They brought her down her high-heeled shoes,
Made of the Spanish leather,
And she took off her low-heeled shoes,
And away they went together.

3
And when Lord Garrick he got there,
Inquiring for his lady,
Then up steps his best friend:
‘She’s gone with a gipsy laddie.’

4
‘Go saddle me my bonny brown,
For the grey is not so speedy,
And away we’ll go to the Misty Mount,
And overtake my lady.’

5
They saddled him his bonny brown,
For the grey was not so speedy,
And away they went to the Misty Mount,
And overtook his lady.

6
And when Lord Garrick he got there,
’Twas in the morning early,
And there he found his lady fair,
And she was wet and weary.

7
‘And it’s fare you well, my dearest dear,
And it’s fare you well for ever,
And if you don’t go with me now,
Don’t let me see you never.’

* * * * *

#A.#

_Variations of Finlay_, II, 39 ff.

_Inserted after 2:_

‘O come with me,’ says Johnie Faw,
‘O come with me, my dearie;
For I vow and I swear, by the hilt of my sword,
That your lord shall nae mair come near ye.’

Then she gied them the beer and the wine,
And they gied her the ginger;
But she gied them a far better thing,
The goud ring aff her finger.

4^2. Wi my.

4^3. But this.

6^3. For I vow and I swear, by the fan in my hand.

7^2. _And wanting._

9^2. _Otherwise_: The brown was neer sae ready.

10^3. but ane.

10^4. For a.

_Herd has in 10^{3,4}_ but ane, For. _Pinkerton follows Herd, with
changes of his own in 1, 10, and the omission of 7. The copy in
Johnson’s Museum is Herd’s, with changes: in 10^{3,4},_ are a’
put down for ane, The Earl of Cassilis’ lady. _Ritson follows
Ramsay, except that in 6^2 he has_ And I’ll, _found in Herd;
perhaps also in some edition of the Tea-Table Miscellany._

#B. a.#

“Some lines have been omitted on account of their indelicacy:” p.
308 b. _The reference is no doubt to a stanza corresponding to
#A# 7, or perhaps to a passage like 5–7._

#b.#

_Only 1, 2, 5, 10–13, are preserved._

1^1. gipsies cam to oor ha-door.

1^4. doon stairs cam oor gay leddie.

2^2. afore.

2^3. An whan they.

2^4. cuist the glamour.

5^1. my gay mantle.

5^2. me my.

5^3. For I maun leave my guid lord at hame.

5^4. An follow the.

10^1. They travelld east, they travelld wast.

10^2. They travelld.

10^3. to the.

10^4. By that time she.

11^1. I crost this.

11^2. An my guid man.

11^3. Noo I maun put.

11^4. An follow.

12^1. Whan her guid lord cam hame at nicht.

12^2. He spierd for his gay.

12^3. The tane she cried an the ither replied.

12^4. She’s aff.

13^1. the brown, he said.

13^2. The black neer rides.

13^3. For I.

13^4. Till I’ve brought back.

#C.#

4^1. _Originally_ plaid _was written for_ cloak; _evidently by
accidental anticipation._

5^3. fit _altered perhaps from_ fut; _printed_ fit.

_Motherwell has made several verbal changes in printing, and has
inserted three stanzas to fill out the ballad._

_After 3_,

‘Come with me, my bonnie Jeanie Faw,
O come with me, my dearie;
For I do swear, by the head o my spear,
Thy gude lord’ll nae mair come near thee.’

_After 7_,

‘I’ll go to bed,’ the lady she said,
‘I’ll go to bed to my dearie;
For I do swear, by the fan in my hand,
That my lord shall nae mair come near me.

‘I’ll mak a hap,’ the lady she said,
‘I’ll mak a hap to my dearie,
And he’s get a’ this petticoat gaes round,
And my lord shall nae mair come near me.’

#E.#

12, 13. _After 9 of #A#, says Finlay, some copies insert_:

And he’s rode east, and he’s rode west,
Till he came near Kirkaldy;
There he met a packman-lad,
And speir’d for his fair lady.

‘O cam ye east? or cam ye west?
Or cam ye through Kirkaldy?
O saw na ye a bonny lass,
Following the gypsie laddie?’

‘I cam na east, I cam na west,
Nor cam I through Kirkaldy;
But the bonniest lass that eer I saw
Was following the gypsie laddie!’

_See also #G# 7._

#G. a.#

4^3. br oges.

#b.#

_In stanzas of eight lines._

1^1. There were.

2^2. With her.

2^3. fair _wanting_.

2^4. They cast the glamer over her.

3^2. Which was of the belinger.

3^4. ’Twas _wanting_.

4^2. They were.

4^3. brogues.

4^4. laddy, _and always_.

6^1. me _wanting_.

6^3. That I may go and seek.

6^4. Who’s.

7^4. Following a.

8^1. all the summer.

8^3. espied.

8^4. and wet.

9^1. O why.

9^3. your own.

10^1. lands.

10^3. will I remain.

11^1. There were.

11^2. They were.

11^3. all in.

#H.#

2^1. the lawyer did.

#J. b.#

1.
The gypsy came tripping over the lea,
The gypsy he sang boldly;
He sang till he made the merry woods ring,
And he charmed the heart of the lady.

_Order_: 1, 5, 6, 2, 3.

2 (_as 4_).
The lord came home that self-same night,
Inquired for his lady;
The merry maid made him this reply,
‘She’s gone with the gypsy Davy.’

3 (_as 5_).
‘O bring me out the blackest steed;
The brown one’s not so speedy;
I’ll ride all day, and I’ll ride all night,
Till I overtake my lady.’

4 (_as 7_).
He rode along by the river-side,
The water was black and rily,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . .

5 (_as 2_).

5^{1,2}. Will you.

5^3. Will you forsake your own wedded lord.

6 (_as 3_).

6^2. And I’ll.

6^3. I will forsake my own wedded lord.

6^4. And go with the gypsy Davy.

7. _Wanting._

#b# 6. I lay last night. _The rest wanting._

#b# 8. _Puts the question whether she will go back._

#b# 9. I lay last night. _The rest wanting._

#K. a.#

_The order as delivered was 3, 1, 2,_ etc., _and the_ high-heeled
shoes _were attributed to Lord Garrick._ Him, his, he _in 2 have
been changed to_ her, her, she. _But a further change should be
made for sense,_ in _1, 2: the lady should take off her
high-heeled shoes and put on her low-heeled shoes; see #G# 4, I
8._

_Burden given also_:

Lal dee dumpy dinky diddle dah day

#b.# _Burden_:

Rump a dump a dink a dink a day
Rump a dump a dink a dink a dady.

_Or_,

Rink a dink a dink a dink a day
Rink a dink a dink a dink a day dee.

_Order as in_ #a#.

1^1. fetch me.

1^3. And take away.

2^1. fetched him down his.

2^3. And they took away his.

3^1. got home.

3^4. with the.

4^1. Go fetch me out.

4^3. And we’ll away to.

4^4. To _for_ And.

5^1. They fetched him out.

5^4. To overtake my.

6^3. lady bright.

7^3. you won’t.

201

BESSY BELL AND MARY GRAY

#a.# Sharpe’s Ballad Book, 1823, p. 62. #b.# Lyle’s Ancient Ballads
and Songs, 1827, p. 160, “collated from the singing of two aged
persons, one of them a native of Perthshire.” #c.# Scott’s
Minstrelsy, 1833, I, 45, two stanzas.

A squib on the birth of the Chevalier St George, beginning

Bessy Bell and Mary Grey,
Those famous bonny lasses,

shows that this little ballad, or song, was very well known in the last years of the seventeenth century.[51] The first stanza was made by Ramsay the beginning of a song of his own, and stands thus in Ramsay’s Poems, Edinburgh, 1721, p. 80:[52]

O Bessy Bell and Mary Gray,
They are twa bonny lasses;
They biggd a bower on yon Burn-brae,
And theekd it oer wi rashes.

Cunningham, Songs of Scotland, III, 60, gives, as recited to him by Sir Walter Scott, four stanzas which are simply #a# with ‘Lyndoch brae’ substituted in the third for Sharpe’s ‘Stronach haugh.’ ‘Dranoch haugh,’ nearly as in #b#, is, as will presently appear, the right reading. Sharpe’s third stanza, with the absurd variation of _royal_ kin, occurs in a letter of his of the date November 25, 1811 (Letters, ed. Allardyce, I, 504), and is printed in the Musical Museum, IV, *203, ed. 1853.

In the course of a series of letters concerning the ballad in The Scotsman (newspaper), August 30 to September 8, 1886, several verses are cited with trivial variations from the texts here given.

‘Bessy Bell’ was made into this nursery-song in England (Halliwell’s Nursery Rhymes of England, 1874, p. 246, No 484):

Bessy Bell and Mary Gray,
They were two bonny lasses;
They built their house upon the lea,
And covered it with rashes.

Bessy kept the garden-gate,
And Mary kept the pantry;
Bessy always had to wait,
While Mary lived in plenty.

The most important document relating to Bessy Bell and Mary Gray is a letter written June 21, 1781, by Major Barry, then proprietor of Lednock, and printed in the Transactions of the Society of the Antiquaries of Scotland, II, 108, 1822.[53]

“When I came first to Lednock,” says Major Barry, “I was shewn in a part of my ground (called the Dranoch-haugh) an heap of stones almost covered with briers, thorns and fern, which they assured me was the burial place of Bessie Bell and Mary Gray.

“The tradition of the country relating to these ladys is, that Mary Gray’s father was laird of Lednock and Bessie Bell’s of Kinvaid, a place in this neighbourhood; that they were both very handsome, and an intimate friendship subsisted between them; that while Miss Bell was on a visit to Miss Gray, the plague broke out, in the year 1666; in order to avoid which they built themselves a bower about three quarters of a mile west from Lednock House, in a very retired and romantic place called Burn-braes, on the side of Brauchie-burn. Here they lived for some time; but the plague raging with great fury, they caught the infection, it is said, from a young gentleman who was in love with them both. He used to bring them their provision. They died in this bower, and were buried in the Dranoch-haugh, at the foot of a brae of the same name, and near to the bank of the river Almond. The burial-place lies about half a mile west from the present house of Lednock.[54]

“I have removed all the rubbish from this little spot of classic ground, inclosed it with a wall, planted it round with flowering shrubs, made up the grave double, and fixed a stone in the wall, on which is engraved the names of Bessie Bell and Mary [Gray].”

The estate passed by purchase to Thomas Graham, afterwards Lord Lynedoch, who replaced the wall, which had become dilapidated in the course of half a century, with a stone parapet and iron railing, and covered the grave with a slab inscribed, “They lived, they loved, they died.” This slab is now hidden under a cairn of stones raised by successive pilgrims.

Major Barry’s date of 1666 should be put back twenty years. Perth and the neighborhood (Lednock is seven miles distant) were fearfully ravaged by the plague in 1645 and a year or two following. Three thousand people are said to have perished. Scotland escaped the pestilence of 1665–6.[55]

The young gentleman who is said to have brought food to Bessy and Mary is sometimes described as the lover of both, sometimes as the lover of one of the pair. Pennant says that the ballad was “composed by a lover deeply stricken with the charms of both.” In the course of tradition, the lover is said to have perished with the young women, which we might expect to happen if he brought the contagion to the bower. But this lover, who ought to have had his place in the song, appears only in tradition, and his reality may be called in question. It is not rational that the young women should seclude themselves to avoid the pest and then take the risk of the visits of a person from the seat of the infection.[56] To be sure it may be doubted, notwithstanding the tenor of the ballad, whether the retirement of these young ladies was voluntary, or at least whether they had not taken the plague before they removed to their bower. In that case the risk would have been for the lover, and would have been no more than he might naturally assume.[57]

* * * * *

1
O Bessie Bell and Mary Gray,
They war twa bonnie lasses;
They bigget a bower on yon burn-brae,
And theekit it oer wi rashes.

2
They theekit it oer wi rashes green,
They theekit it oer wi heather;
But the pest cam frae the burrows-town,
And slew them baith thegither.

3
They thought to lye in Methven kirk-yard,
Amang their noble kin;
But they maun lye in Stronach haugh,
To biek forenent the sin.

4
And Bessy Bell and Mary Gray,
They war twa bonnie lasses;
They biggit a bower on yon burn-brae,
And theekit it oer wi rashes.

* * * * *

#a.#

_In eight-line stanzas._

#b.#

1^3. house _for_ bower.

2^1. wi birk and brume.

2^3. Till the: frae the neibrin.

2^4. An streekit.

3^1. They were na buried in.

3^2. Amang the rest o their kin.

3^3. they were buried by Dornoch-haugh.

3^4. On the bent before.

4^1. Sing _for_ And.

4^3. Wha _for_ They.

4^4. wi thrashes.

#c.#

1^1. O _wanting._

2. _Wanting._

3^1. They wadna rest in Methvin kirk.

3^2. gentle kin.

3^3. But they wad lie in Lednoch braes.

3^4. beek against.

4. _Wanting._

202

THE BATTLE OF PHILIPHAUGH

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 153, 1803, II, 166, 1833;
“preserved by tradition in Selkirkshire.”

After six brilliant victories, at Tipper-muir, Aberdeen, Inverlochy, Auldearn, Alford, Kilsyth, gained in less than a year, September 1, 1644–August 15, 1645, Montrose was surprised by David Leslie at Philiphaugh, September 13 following, and his army cut to pieces or dispersed. This army, consisting of only five hundred Irish foot and twelve hundred Scottish horse, the last all gentry, was lying at Philiphaugh, a meadow on the west side of the Ettrick, and at Selkirk, on and above the opposite bank. Leslie came down from the north with four thousand cavalry and some infantry, was less than four miles from Selkirk the night of the twelfth, and on the morrow, favored by a heavy mist, had advanced to about half a mile’s distance before his approach was reported. A hundred and fifty of Montrose’s horse received and repulsed two charges of greatly superior numbers; the rest stood off and presently took to flight. The foot remained firm. Two thousand of Leslie’s horse crossed the river and got into Montrose’s rear, and made resistance vain. Montrose and a few friends hewed their way through the enemy.[58]

1. Harehead wood is at the western end of the plain of Philiphaugh.

2, 3. Leslie had come up from Berwick along the eastern coast as far as Tranent, and then suddenly turned south. His numbers are put too low, and Montrose’s, in 10, about nine times too high.

4. The Shaw burn is a small stream that flows into the Ettrick from the south, a little north of the town.

5. Lingly burn falls into the Ettrick from the north, a little above the Shaw burn.

The ‘aged father,’ 6, to accept a tradition reported by Sir Walter Scott, was one “Brydone, ancestor to several families in the parish of Ettrick.” This is probably the personage elsewhere called Will, upon whose advice Leslie (according to tradition again) “sent a strong body of horse over a dip in the bank that separated his advanced guard from the river Ettrick, and still known as “Will’s Nick,” with instructions to follow their guide up Netley burn, wheel to the left round Linglee hill, and then fall upon the flank of Montrose’s army at Philiphaugh.”[59] It does not appear that Leslie adopted that portion of the aged father’s recommendation which is conveyed in stanzas 11, 12, notwithstanding the venerable man’s unusual experience, which, as Scott points out, extended from Solway Moss, 1542, to Dunbar, where, in 1650, five years after Philiphaugh, Leslie was defeated by Cromwell.

Other pieces of popular verse relating, in part or wholly, to Montrose are ‘The Gallant Grahams,’ Roxburghe collection, III, 380, Douce, III, 39 back, Ebsworth, Roxburghe Ballads, VI, 587, Scott’s Minstrelsy, III, 371, 1803, II, 183, 1833; ‘The Haughs o Cromdale,’ Ritson’s Scotish Songs, 1794, II, 40, Johnson’s Museum, No 488, Maidment’s Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1868, I, 299, Hogg’s Jacobite Relics, I, 157 ff; ‘The Battle of Alford,’ Laing’s Thistle of Scotland, p. 68.

* * * * *

1
On Philiphaugh a fray began,
At Hairheadwood it ended;
The Scots outoer the Græmes they ran,
Sae merrily they bended.

2
Sir David frae the Border came,
Wi heart an hand came he;
Wi him three thousand bonny Scots,
To bear him company.

3
Wi him three thousand valiant men,
A noble sight to see!
A cloud o mist them weel conceald,
As close as eer might be.

4
When they came to the Shaw burn,
Said he, Sae weel we frame,
I think it is convenient
That we should sing a psalm.

5
When they came to the Lingly burn,
As daylight did appear,
They spy’d an aged father,
And he did draw them near.

6
‘Come hither, aged father,’
Sir David he did cry,
‘And tell me where Montrose lies,
With all his great army.’

7
‘But first you must come tell to me,
If friends or foes you be;
I fear you are Montrose’s men,
Come frae the north country.’

8
‘No, we are nane o Montrose’s men,
Nor eer intend to be;
I am Sir David Lesly,
That’s speaking unto thee.’

9
‘If you’re Sir David Lesly,
As I think weel ye be,
I am sorry ye hae brought so few
Into your company.

10
‘There’s fifteen thousand armed men
Encamped on yon lee;
Ye’ll never be a bite to them,
For aught that I can see.

11
‘But halve your men in equal parts,
Your purpose to fulfill;
Let ae half keep the
water-side,
The rest gae round the hill.

12
‘Your nether party fire must,
Then beat a flying drum;
And then they’ll think the day’s their ain,
And frae the trench they’ll come.

13
‘Then, those that are behind them maun
Gie shot, baith grit and sma;
And so, between your armies twa,
Ye may make them to fa.’

14
‘O were ye ever a soldier?’
Sir David Lesly said;
‘O yes; I was at Solway Flow,
Where we were all betrayd.

15
‘Again I was at curst Dunbar,
And was a prisner taen,
And many weary night and day
In prison I hae lien.’

16
‘If ye will lead these men aright,
Rewarded shall ye be;
But, if that ye a traitor prove,
I’ll hang thee on a tree.’

17
‘Sir, I will not a traitor prove;
Montrose has plunderd me;
I’ll do my best to banish him
Away frae this country.’

18
He halvd his men in equal parts,
His purpose to fulfill;
The one part kept the water-side,
The other gaed round the hill.

19
The nether party fired brisk,
Then turnd and seemd to rin;
And then they a’ came frae the trench,
And cry’d, The day’s our ain!

20
The rest then ran into the trench,
And loosd their cannons a’:
And thus, between his armies twa,
He made them fast to fa.

21
Now let us a’ for Lesly pray,
And his brave company,
For they hae vanquishd great Montrose,
Our cruel enemy.

* * * * *

4^4. _Var._ That we should take a dram: _Scott. Probably a jocose
suggestion._

203

THE BARON OF BRACKLEY

#A. a.# ‘The Baronne of Braikley,’ [Alexander Laing’s] Scarce Ancient
Ballads, 1822, p. 9. #b.# ‘The Baron of Braikley,’ Buchan’s
Gleanings, 1825, p. 68. #c.# ‘The Barrone of Brackley,’ The New
Deeside Guide, by James Brown (pseudonym for Joseph Robertson),
Aberdeen, [1832[60]], p. 46.

#B.# ‘The Baron of Brackley,’ Kinloch MSS, V, 379; in the handwriting
of John Hill Burton.

#C. a.# ‘The Baron of Braikly,’ Jamieson-Brown MS., Appendix, p. viii.
#b.# ‘The Baron of Brackley,’ Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, 1806, I,
102.

#D.# ‘The Baron of Breachell,’ Skene MS., p. 110.

First printed by Jamieson (#C b#) in 1806, who says: “For the copy of the ballad here given I am indebted to Mrs Brown. I have also collated it with another, less perfect, but not materially different, so far as it goes, with which I was favored by the editor of the Border Minstrelsy, who took it down from the recitation of two ladies, great-grandchildren of Farquharson of Inverey; so that the ballad, and the notices that accompany it, are given upon the authority of a Gordon [Anne Gordon, Mrs Brown] and a Farquharson.”[61] #A c# is also a compounded copy: see the notes.

The text in The Thistle of Scotland, p. 46, is #C b#. That which is cited in part in the Fourth Report on Historical Manuscripts, 1874, p. 534, is #A c#. The ballad is rewritten by Allan Cunningham, Songs of Scotland, II, 208.

#A.# Inverey comes before day to Brackley’s gate, and calls to him to open and have his blood spilled. Brackley asks over the wall whether the people below are gentlemen or hired gallows-birds; if gentlemen, they may come in and eat and drink; in the other case, they may go on to the Lowlands and steal cattle. His wife urges him to get up; the men are nothing but hired gallows-birds. Brackley will go out to meet Inverey (both know it is he, 12, 19), but these same gallows-birds will prove themselves men. His wife derisively calls on her maids to bring their distaffs; if Brackley is not man enough to protect his cattle, she will drive off the robbers with her women. Brackley says he will go out, but he shall never come in. He arms and sallies forth, attended by his brother William, his uncle, and his cousin; but presently bids his brother turn back because he is a bridegroom. William refuses, and in turn, but equally to no effect, urges Brackley to turn back for his wife’s and his son’s sake. The Gordons are but four against four hundred of Inverey’s, and are all killed. Brackley’s wife, so far from tearing her hair, braids it, welcomes Inverey, and makes him a feast. The son, on the nurse’s knee, vows to be revenged if he lives to be a man. (Cf. ‘Johnie Armstrong,’ III, 367, where this should have been noted.)