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"The hielands 'll be for thee, my dear, The hielands will be for thee; To the lusty Laird o' Linlyon 15 A-married ye shall be."

When they cam to Linlyon's yetts, And lichtit on the green, Every ane spak Earse to her,-- The tears cam trickling down. 20

When they went to bed at nicht, To Linlyon she did say, "Och and alace! a weary nicht, Oh! but it's lang till day."

"Your father's steed 's in my stable, 25 He 's eating corn and hay, And you 're lying in my twa arms; What need you lang for day?"

"If I had paper, pen, and ink, And candle for to see, 30 I would write a lang letter To my love in Dundee."

They brocht her paper, pen, and ink, And candle for to see, And she did write a lang letter 35 To her love in Dundee.

When he cam to Linlyon's yetts, And lichtit on the green; But lang or he wan up the stair His love was dead and gane. 40

Woe be to thee, Linlyon, An ill death may thou die!

Thou might hae ta'en anither woman, And let my lady be.

7. Mr. Jamieson has "Glenlyon," which is probably the right name. M.


From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, i. 248.

There lives a man in Rynie's land, Anither in Auchindore; The bravest lad amo' them a', Was lang Johnny Moir.

Young Johnny was an airy blade, 5 Fu' sturdy, stout, and strang; The sword that hang by Johnny's side, Was just full ten feet lang.

Young Johnny was a clever youth, Fu' sturdy, stout, and wight; 10 Just full three yards around the waist, And fourteen feet in hight.

But if a' be true they tell me now, And a' be true I hear, Young Johnny's on to Lundan gane, 15 The king's banner to bear.

He hadna been in fair Lundan But twalmonths twa or three, Till the fairest lady in a' Lundan Fell in love wi' young Johnny. 20

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.

When the king got word o' that, 25 A solemn oath sware he; "This weighty Scott sall strait a rope, And hanged he shall be."

When Johnny heard the sentence past, A light laugh then gae he; 30 "While I hae strength to yield my blade, Ye darena a' hang me."

The English dogs were cunning rogues; About him they did creep, And ga'e him draps o' lodomy 35 That laid him fast asleep.

Whan Johnny waken'd frae his sleep, A sorry heart had he; His jaws and hands in iron bands, His feet in fetters three. 40

"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?"

"Here am I, a little wee boy, 45 Will work for meat and fee, That will rin on to your uncle, At the foot of Benachie."

"Whan ye come whar grass grows green, Slack your shoes and rin; 50 And whan ye come whar water's strong, Ye'll bend your bow and swim.

"And whan ye come to Benachie, Ye'll neither chap nor ca'; Sae well's ye'll ken auld Johnny there, 55 Three feet abeen them a'.

"Ye'll gie to him this braid letter, Seal'd wi' my faith and troth; And ye'll bid him bring alang wi' him The body, Jock o' Noth." 60

"Whan he came whar grass grew green, He slack't his shoes and ran; And whan he came whar water's strong, He bent his bow and swam.

And whan he came to Benachie, 65 Did neither chap nor ca'; Sae well's he kent auld Johnny there, Three feet abeen them a'.

"What news, what news, my little wee boy?

Ye never were here before;" 70 "Nae news, nae news, but a letter from Your nephew, Johnny Moir.

"Ye'll take here this braid letter, Seal'd wi' his faith and troth; And ye're bidden bring alang wi' you 75 The body, Jock o' Noth."

Benachie lyes very low, The tap o' Noth lyes high; For a' the distance that's between, He heard auld Johnny cry. 80

Whan on the plain these champions met, Twa grizly ghosts to see, There were three feet between her brows, And shoulders were yards three.

These men they ran ower hills and dales, 85 And ower mountains high; Till they came on to Lundan town, At the dawn o' the third day.

And whan they came to Lundan town, The yetts were lockit wi' bands; 90 And wha were there but a trumpeter, Wi' trumpet in his hands.

"What is the matter, ye keepers all, Or what's the matter within, That the drums do beat, and bells do ring, 95 And make sic dolefu' din?"

"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." 100

"O open the yetts, ye proud keepers, Ye'll open without delay;"

The trembling keeper smiling said, "O I hae not the key."

"Ye'll open the yetts, ye proud keepers, 105 Ye'll open without delay; Or here is a body at my back Frae Scotland hae brought the key."

"Ye'll open the yetts," says Jock o' Noth, "Ye'll open them at my call;" 110 Then wi' his foot he has drove in Three yards braid o' the wall.

As they gaed in by Drury-lane, And down by the town's hall; And there they saw young Johnny Moir, 115 Stand on their English wall.

"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." 120

"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."

"It's nae for murder, nor for theft, 125 Nor yet for robberie; A' is for the loving a gay lady, They're gaun to gar me die."

"O whar's thy sword," says Jock o' Noth, "Ye brought frae Scotland wi' thee? 130 I never saw a Scotsman yet, But coud wield a sword or tree."

"A pox upo' their lodomy On me had sic a sway; Four o' their men, the bravest four, 135 They bore my blade away."

"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." 140

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