136. Johnnie of Cockerslee. Quiller-Couch, Arthur, ed. 1910. The Oxford Book of Ballads

Verse > Anthologies > Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. > The Oxford Book of Ballads

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Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (1863–1944). The Oxford Book of Ballads. 1910.

136. Johnnie of Cockerslee

JOHNNIE rose up in a May morning,

Call’d for water to wash his hands;

‘Gar loose to me the gude gray dogs,

That are bound wi’ iron bands.’

When Johnnie’s mother gat word o’ that,

Her hands for dule she wrang;

‘O Johnnie, for my benison,

To the greenwood dinna gang!

III

‘Eneugh ye hae o’ gude wheat bread,

And eneugh o’ the blude-red wine;

And therefore for nae venison, Johnnie,

I pray ye, stir frae hame.

‘There are Seven For’sters at Hislinton side,

At Hislinton where they dwell,

And for ae drap o’ thy heart’s blude

They wad ride the fords o’ hell.’

But Johnnie has buskit his gude bend-bow,

His arrows, ane by ane,

And he has gane to Durrisdeer

To ding the dun deer down.

He’s lookit east, and he’s lookit west,

And a little below the sun;

And there he spied the dun deer lying

Aneath a buss o’ broom.

VII

Johnnie he shot and the dun deer lap,

And he wounded her on the side;

But atween the wood and the wan water

His hounds they laid her pride.

VIII

And Johnnie has brittled the deer sae well,

Had out her liver and lungs;

And wi’ these he has feasted his bluidy hounds

As if they had been Earl’s sons.

They ate sae much o’ the venison,

And drank sae much o’ the blude,

That Johnnie and his gude gray hounds

Fell asleep by yonder wood.

By there came a silly auld carle,

An ill death mote he die!

And he’s awa’ to Hislinton,

Where the Seven Foresters did lie.

‘What news, what news, ye gray-headed carle?

What news? come tell to me.’—

‘I bring nae news,’ said the gray-headed carle,

‘But what these eyes did see.

XII

‘High up in Braidislee, low down in Braidislee,

And under a buss o’ scroggs,

The bonniest childe that ever I saw

Lay sleeping atween his dogs.

XIII

‘The sark he had upon his back

It was o’ the holland fine,

The doublet he had over that

It was o’ the Lincoln twine.

XIV

‘The buttons that were on his sleeve

Were o’ the gowd sae gude;

The twa gray dogs he lay atween,

Their mouths were dyed wi’ blude.’

Then out and spak’ the First Forester,

The head man owre them a’;

‘If this be Johnnie o’ Cockerslee

Nae nearer will we draw.’

XVI

But up and spak’ the Sixth Forester,

(His sister’s son was he,)

‘If this be Johnnie o’ Cockerslee,

We soon shall gar him dee!’

XVII

The first flight of arrows the Foresters shot,

They wounded him on the knee;

And out and spak’ the Seventh Forester,

‘The next will gar him dee.’

XVIII

‘O some they count ye well-wight men,

But I do count ye nane;

For you might well ha’ waken’d me,

And ask’d gin I wad be ta’en.

XIX

‘The wildest wolf in a’ this wood

Wad no ha’ done sae by me;

She ha’ wet her foot i’ the wan water,

And sprinkled it owre my bree,

And if that wad not ha’ waken’d me,

Wad ha’ gone an’ let me be.

‘O bows of yew, if ye be true,

In London where ye were bought;

And, silver strings, value me sma’ things

Till I get this vengeance wrought!

And, fingers five, get up belive:

And Manhood fail me nought!

XXI

‘Stand stout, stand stout, my noble dogs,

Stand stout and dinna flee!

Stand fast, stand fast, my good gray hounds,

And we will gar them dee!’

XXII

Johnnie has set his back to an aik,

His foot against a stane,

And he has slain the Seven Foresters,

He has slain them a’ but ane.

XXIII

He has broke three ribs in that ane’s side,

But and his collar bane;

He ’s flung him twa-fald owre his steed,

Bade him carry the tidings hame …

XXIV

‘Is there no a bird in a’ this forest

Will do as mickle for me

As dip its wing in the wan water

And straik it on my e’e-bree?

100

XXV

‘Is there no a bird in a’ this forest

Can sing as I can say,—

Can flee away to my mother’s bower

And tell to fetch Johnnie away?’

XXVI

The starling flew to her window-stane,

105

It whistled and it sang;

And aye the owre-word o’ the tune

Was, Johnnie tarries lang!

XXVII

They made a rod o’ the hazel-bush,

Another o’ the slae-thorn tree,

110

And mony, mony were the men

At the fetching our Johnnie.

XXVIII

Then out and spak’ his auld mother,

And fast her tears did fa’:

‘Ye wadna be warn’d, my son Johnnie,

115

Frae the hunting to bide awa’!’

XXIX

Now Johnnie’s gude bend-bow is broke,

And his gude gray dogs are slain;

And his body lies dead in Durrisdeer,

And his hunting it is done.

120

GLOSS: buss] bush, clump. lap] leapt. brittled] ‘broken’, cut up venison. scroggs] stunted, or scraggy, trees. twine] thread, texture. well-wight] sturdy, here brave. bree] brow. belive] nimbly, at once.

CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

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