No: 99; variant: 99J
- O word is to the queen hersel,
In parlour whare she sat,
That the king’s dochter goes wi child
To Jock, that little Scot.
- O word is to the king himsel,
And an angry man was he;
Says, I will put her in cold prison,
And hunger her till she dee.
- The ladie was laid in cold prison,
By the king, a grievous man;
And up and starts a little boy,
Upon her window-stane.
- Says, Here’s a silken shift, ladye,
Your ane hand sewed the sleeve,
And ye maun gang to yon greenwud,
And of your freends speir na leave.
- ‘My bouer is very hie,’ said the lady,
‘And it’s wondrous hie round about;
My feet are lockit in the iron fetters,
And how can I get out?
- ‘But I will write a braid letter,
And seal it tenderlie,
And send it to yon greenwud,
And let young Johnie see.’
- O Johnie’s to his father gane,
And til him did say,
O I maun up to London, father,
And fecht for that lady gay.
- His father spak but ae word,
Says, I speak it in time;
For an ye gang to London, Johnie,
I fear your coming hame.
- And out and spak anither youth,
And a pretty youth was he:
Afore I see young Johnie dung
I’ll fecht for him till I dee.
- He has wallowd it, he has wallowd it,
He’s wallowd it again;
Cries, Onie mae o your English dogs
That wants for to be slain?
- He set the horn until his mouth,
And he has blawn baith loud and shill;
The victor’s doun to Scotland gane,
Richt sair against their will.