THE GYPSY LADDIE_The English and Scottish popular ballads, volume 4 (of 5)

#A.# ‘Johny Faa, the Gypsy Laddie,’ Ramsay’s Tea-Table Miscellany,

vol. iv, 1740. Here from the edition of 1763, p. 427.

#B. a.# The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany (vol. lxxx of

the Scots Magazine), November, 1817, p. 309. #b.# A fragment recited

by Miss Fanny Walker, of Mount Pleasant, near Newburgh-on-Tay.

#C.# ‘Davie Faw,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 381; ‘Gypsie Davy,’

Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, 1827, p. 360.

#D.# ‘The Egyptian Laddy,’ Kinloch MSS, V, 331.

#E.# ‘The Gypsie Laddie,’ Mactaggart’s Scottish Gallovidian

Encyclopedia, 1824, p. 284.

#F.# ‘Johnny Faa, the Gypsey Laddie,’ The Songs of England and

Scotland [P. Cunningham], London, 1835, II, 346.

#G. a.# ‘The Gypsie Loddy,’ a broadside, Roxburghe Ballads, III, 685.

#b.# A recent stall-copy, Catnach, 2 Monmouth Court, Seven Dials.

#H.# ‘The Gipsy Laddie,’ Shropshire Folk-Lore, edited by Charlotte

Sophia Burne, p. 550.

#I.# Communicated by Miss Margaret Reburn, as sung in County Meath,

Ireland, about 1860.

#J. a.# ‘The Gipsey Davy,’ from Stockbridge, Massachusetts. #b.# From

a lady born in Maine.

#K.# ‘Lord Garrick,’ #a#, #b#, communicated by ladies of New York.

The English ballad, though derived from the Scottish, may perhaps have

been printed earlier. A conjectural date of 1720 is given, with

hesitation, to #G a#, in the catalogue of the British Museum.

The Scottish ballad appears to have been first printed in the fourth

volume of the Tea-Table Miscellany, 1740, but no copy of that edition

has been recovered. From the Tea-Table Miscellany it was repeated, with

variations, some traditional, some arbitrary, in: Herd’s Ancient and

Modern Scots Songs, 1769, ‘Gypsie Laddie,’ p. 88, ed. 1776, II, 54; The

Fond Mother’s Garland, not dated, but earlier than 1776; Pinkerton’s

Select Scotish Ballads, 1783, I, 67; Johnson’s Museum, ‘Johny Faa, or,

The Gypsie Laddie,’ No 181, p. 189; Ritson’s Scotish Songs, 1794, II,

176; and in this century, Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 15;

Cunningham’s Songs of Scotland, 1825, II, 175. A transcript in the

Campbell MSS, ‘The Gypsies,’ I, 16, is from Pinkerton.

“The people in Ayrshire begin this song,

‘The gypsies cam to my lord Cassilis’ yett.’

They have a great many more stanzas ... than I ever yet saw in any

printed.” Burns, in Cromek’s Reliques, 1809, p. 161. (So Sharpe, in the

Musical Museum, 1853, IV, 217, but perhaps repeating Burns.) #B#, from

Galloway, has eight more stanzas than #A#, and #E#, also from Galloway,

fourteen more, but quite eight of the last are entirely

untraditional,[38] and the hand of the editor is frequently to be

recognized elsewhere.

Finlay, Scottish Ballads, 1808, II, 39, inserted two stanzas after #A#

2, the first of which is nearly the same as 5, and the second as #B# 3,

#C# 3. The variations of his text, and others in his notes, are given

under #A#. Kinloch MSS, V, 299; Chambers, Scottish Ballads, 1829, p.

143; Aytoun, 1859, I, 187, repeat Finlay, with a few slight changes. The

Ballads and Songs of Ayrshire, I, 9, follows Chambers.

The copy in Smith’s Scotish Minstrel, III, 90, is derived from #B a#,

but has readings of other texts, and is of no authority. That in

Maidment’s Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1868, II, 185, is #B a# with

changes. Ten stanzas in a manuscript of Scottish songs and ballads,

copied 1840 or 1850 by a granddaughter of Lord Woodhouselee, p. 46, are

from #B a#. This may be true also of #B b#, which, however, has not

Cassilis in 1^1.

#C# is from a little further north, from Renfrewshire; #D# from

Aberdeenshire. #F# is from the north of England, and resembles #C#. The

final stanza of #G a# is cited by Ritson, Scotish Songs, II, 177, 1794.

‘The Rare Ballad of Johnnie Faa and the Countess o Cassilis,’ Sheldon’s

Minstrelsy of the English Border, p. 326, which the editor had “heard

sung repeatedly by Willie Faa,” and of which he “endeavored to preserve

as much as recollection would allow,” has the eleven stanzas of the

English broadside, and twelve more of which Sheldon must have been

unable to recollect anything. #H-K# are all varieties of the broadside.

The Rev. S. Baring-Gould has most obligingly sent me a ballad, taken

down by him from the singing of an illiterate hedger in North Devon, in

which ‘The Gypsy Laddie,’ recomposed (mostly with middle rhyme in the

third verse, as in #A# 1, 8), forms the sequel to a story of an earl

marrying a very reluctant gypsy maid. When the vagrant who has been made

a lady against nature hears some of her tribe singing at the

castle-gate, the passion for a roving life returns, and she deserts her

noble partner, who pursues her, and, not being able to induce her to

return to him, smites her “lily-white” throat with his sword. This

little romance, retouched and repaired, is printed as No 50 of Songs and

Ballads of the West, now publishing by Baring-Gould and Sheppard. Mr

Baring-Gould has also given me a defective copy of the second part of

‘The Gipsy Countess’ (exhibiting many variations), which he obtained

from an old shoemaker of Tiverton.

Among the Percy papers there is a set of ballads made over by the

Bishop, which may have been intended for the contemplated extension of

his Reliques. ‘The Gipsie Laddie,’ in eighteen stanzas, and not quite

finished, is one of these. After seven stanzas of #A#, not much altered,

the husband ineffectually pursues the lady, who adopts the gipsy trade,

with her reid cheek stained wi yallow. Seven years pass, during which

the laird has taken another wife. At Yule a wretched carline begs

charity at his gate, who, upon questioning, reveals that she had been a

lady gay, with a comely marrow, but had proved false and ruined herself.

#A.# Gypsies sing so sweetly at our lord’s gate as to entice his lady to

come down; as soon as she shows herself, they cast the glamour on her

(so #B-F#, #G b#). She gives herself over to the chief gypsy, Johny Faa

by name, without reserve of any description. Her lord, upon returning

and finding her gone, sets out to recover her, and captures and hangs

fifteen gypsies. (It is extremely likely that this version has lost

several stanzas.)

Our lord, unnamed in #A#, is Lord Cassilis in #B#, #C#, #F# (so Burns,

and Johnson’s Museum). Cassilis has become Cassle, Castle in #E#, #G#,

Corsefield[39] in #D#, Cashan in Irish #I#, Garrick[40] in American #K#.

The Gypsy Laddie is again Johnie, Jockie, Faa in #B#, #D#, #E#; but

Gipsy Davy in #C# (where Lady Cassilis is twice called Jeanie Faw), and

in American #I a b#; and seems to be called both Johnnie Faw and Gypsie

Geordie in #F#. The lady gives the gypsies the good wheat bread #B#, #E#

(beer and wine, Finlay); they give her (sweetmeats, #C#) ginger, nutmeg,

or both, and she gives them the ring (rings) off her finger (fingers),

#B#, #C#, #E#, #G#, #I#, (and Finlay).

#B a# has a full story from this point on. The gypsy asks the lady to go

with him, and swears that her lord shall never come near her. The lady

changes her silk mantle for a plaid, and is ready to travel the world

over with the gypsy, #B a# 5, #A# 3, #C# 4, #D# 3, #E# 4, #F# 4, (#B a#

6 is spurious). They wander high and low till they come to an old barn,

and by this time she is weary. The lady begins to find out what she has

undertaken: last night she lay with her lord in a well-made bed, now she

must lie in an old barn, #B a# 7, 8, #A# 4, #C# 6, #D# 7, #F# 5 (reeky

kill #E# 8, on a straw bed #H# 7, in the ash-corner #I# 6). The gypsy

bids her hold her peace, her lord shall never come near her. They wander

high and low till they come to a wan water, and by this time she is

weary. Oft has she ridden that wan water with her lord; now she must set

in her white feet and wade, #B a# 11, #C# 5, #D# 5, 6, #E# 7, (and carry

the gipsie laddie, #B a# 11, badly; follow, #B b#). The lord comes home,

is told that his lady is gone off with the gypsy, and immediately sets

out to bring her back (so all). He finds her at the wan water, #B a# 14;

in Abbey Dale, drinking wi Gipsey Davy, #C# 10; near Strabogie, drinking

wi Gypsie Geordie, #F# 10;[41] by the riverside, #J a# 4; at the Misty

Mount, #K# 5, 6. He asks her tenderly if she will go home, #B a# 15, #E#

15, #F# 12, he will shut her up so securely that no man shall come near,

#B a# 15, #E# 15; he expostulates with her, more or less reproachfully,

#C# 11, #F# 11, #G# 9, #H# 5, #J# 5. She will not go home; as she has

brewed, so will she drink, #B a# 16, #G# 10; she cares not for houses or

lands or babes (baby) #G# 10, #H# 6, #J# 6. But she swears to him that

she is as free of the gypsies as when her mother bare her, #B a# 17, #E#

16.

Fifteen gypsies are hanged, or lose their lives, #A# 10, #B# 18, #D# 14;

sixteen, all sons of one mother, #C# 12, 13; seven, #F# 13, #G# 11, (cf.

#I# 1).[42]

#D# 8–11 is ridiculously perverted in the interest of morals: compare #B

a# 17, #E# 16. ‘I swear that my hand shall never go near thee,’ #D# 8,

is transferred to the husband in #I# 5: ‘A hand I’ll neer lay on you’

(in the way of correction).

In #G# 4 the lady, in place of exchanging her silk mantle for a plaidie,

pulls off her high-heeled shoes, of Spanish leather, and puts on

Highland brogues. In #I# 7 gypsies take off her high-heeled shoes, and

she puts on Lowland brogues. The high-heeled shoes, to be sure, are not

adapted to following the Gypsy Laddie, but light may perhaps be derived

from #C# 12, where the gypsies ‘drink her stockings and her shoon.’ In

#K# these high-heeled shoes of Spanish leather are wrongly transferred

to Lord Garrick in the copy as delivered, but have been restored to the

lady.

It is not said (except in the spurious portions of #E#) that the lady

was carried back by her husband, but this may perhaps be inferred from

his hanging the gypsies. In #D# and #K# we are left uncertain as to her

disposition, which is elsewhere, for the most part, to stick to the

gypsy. #J#, a copy of very slight authority, makes the lord marry again

within six months of his wife’s elopement.

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.

* * * * *

Ramsay’s Tea-Table Miscellany, vol. iv, 1740. Here from the London

edition of 1763, p. 427.

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.

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.

‘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.

‘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.’

‘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.’

‘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.

‘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.’

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.’

‘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.’

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.

* * * * *

#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.

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.

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.

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.

‘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.’

‘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.

‘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.

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.

‘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.’

‘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.’

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.

‘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.’

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.’

‘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.’

He wandred high, he wandred low,

He wandred late and early,

Untill he came to that wan water,

And there he spied his ladie.

‘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.’

‘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.

‘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.’

They were fifteen valiant men,

Black, but very bonny,

And they lost all their lives for one,

The Earl of Cassillis’ ladie.

* * * * *

Motherwell’s MS., p. 381, from the recitation of Agnes Lyle,

Kilbarchan, 27 July, 1825.

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.

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.

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.

‘Tak from me my silken cloak,

And bring me down my plaidie;

For it is gude eneuch,’ she said,

‘To follow a Gipsy Davy.

‘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.

‘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.’

‘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.’

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!’

‘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.’

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.

‘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?’

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.

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.

‘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.’

* * * * *

Kinloch MSS, V, 331, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton; from a

reciter who came from the vicinity of Craigievar.

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.

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.

‘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.’

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.

When they came to a wan water,

I wite it wasna bonny,

. . . . . . .

‘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.

‘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.’

‘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.

‘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.’

‘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.’

‘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.’

* * * * * *

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.’

‘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.’

* * * * * *

‘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.’

* * * * *

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

284.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

‘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.’

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.

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.’

‘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.

‘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.

‘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.’

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.’

‘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.’

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.’

‘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.

‘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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

* * * * *

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.

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.

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.

‘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.’

‘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.

‘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.

‘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.

‘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.’

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.’

‘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.’

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.

‘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?

‘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.’

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.

* * * * *

#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.

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

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.

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.

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.

At night when my good lord came home,

Enquiring for his lady,

The waiting-maid made this reply,

‘She’s following the gypsey loddy.’

‘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.

‘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?’

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.

‘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?’

‘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!’

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.

* * * * *

Shropshire Lolk-Lore, edited by Charlotte Sophia Burne, p. 550, as

sung May 23, 1885, by gypsy children.

There came a gang o gipsies by,

And they was singing so merry, O

Till they gained the heart o my lady gay,

. . . . . . .

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

‘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.’

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.

‘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?’

‘What care I for houses and land?

And what care I for money?

What do I care for three pretty babes?’

. . . . . . .

‘The tother night you was on a feather bed,

Now you’re on a straw one,’

. . . . . . .

* * * * *

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

1860.”

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

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.

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.’

‘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.

‘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.’

‘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.

‘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.’

‘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.’

* * * * *

#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.

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.

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.’

‘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.’

Riding by the river-side,

The grass was wet and dewy;

Seated with her gipsey lad,

It’s there he spied his lady.

‘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?’

‘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.’

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.

* * * * *

#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.

* * * * * *

‘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

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.

And when Lord Garrick he got there,

Inquiring for his lady,

Then up steps his best friend:

‘She’s gone with a gipsy laddie.’

‘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.’

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.

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.

‘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.