GEORDIE_The English and Scottish popular ballads, volume 4 (of 5)

#A.# ‘Geordie,’ Johnson’s Musical Museum, No. 346, p. 357, 1792.

#B.# “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” Abbotsford,

1802.

#C. a.# ‘The Laird of Geight, or Gae.’ #b.# ‘The Laird of Geight.’

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” Abbotsford,

1813–15.

#D.# ‘The Laird of Gigh, or Gae,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for

Border Minstrelsy,” Abbotsford, 1813–15.

#E. a.# Kinloch MSS, V, 130. #b.# ‘Geordie,’ Kinloch’s Ancient

Scottish Ballads, p. 192.

#F.# ‘Geordie Lukely,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 367.

#G.# ‘Geordie,’ ‘Geordie Lukelie,’ Motherwell’s Note-Book, p. 17, p.

10.

#H.# ‘Will ye go to the Hielans, Geordie?’ Christie, Traditional

Ballad Airs, II, 44.

#I. a.# ‘Gight’s Lady,’ Buchan’s MSS, II, 143. #b.# ‘Laird (Lord?) of

Gight,’ Kinloch MSS, VI, 1.

#J.# ‘Gight’s Lady,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I,

133.

#K.# Motherwell’s MS., p. 400, two stanzas.

#L.# ‘Geordie,’ Cunningham’s Songs of Scotland, II, 186, two stanzas.

#M.# ‘Geordie,’ ‘Geordie Lukely,’ Motherwell’s Note-Book, p. 2, one

stanza.

#N.# ‘Geordie,’ Motherwell’s Note-Book, p. 20, one stanza.

“Of this,” says Motherwell, “many variations exist among reciters,” and

his remark is borne out by what is here given.

The copy in Cunningham’s Songs of Scotland, II, 186, is #A# retouched,

with st. 5 dropped and two stanzas (#L#) inserted from recitation. The

texts of Christie, #I#, 52, 84, are #J# abridged and #E b#. Of #J#

Christie says that he heard in 1848 a version sung by a native of

Buchan, Aberdeenshire, who had it through her grandmother and

great-grandmother, which differed only in being more condensed and

wanting the catastrophe, and in having Badenoch’s lady for Bignet’s, and

Keith-Hall and Gartly for Black Riggs and Kincraigie.

Geordie Gordon, #A#, of Gight (Gigh), #B b#, #C#, #D#, #I#, of the Bog o

Gight, #H#, is in prison, on a charge endangering his life. He sends a

message to his wife to come to Edinburgh. She rides thither with the

utmost haste, and finds Geordie in extremity. She is told that his life

may be redeemed by the payment of a large sum of money. She raises a

contribution on the spot, pays the ransom, and rides off with her

husband.

Kinloch and others incline to take Geordie to be George Gordon, fourth

earl of Huntly, who incurred the Queen Regent’s displeasure for failing

to execute a commission against a Highland robber in 1554. Huntly was

committed to Edinburgh Castle, and some of his many enemies urged that

he should be banished to France, others that he should be put to death.

The Earl of Cassilis, though a foe to Huntly, resisted these measures on

grounds of patriotism, and proposed that he should be deprived of

certain honors and offices and fined. A fine was exacted, and the places

which had been taken from him were restored.[88] With regard to this

hypothesis, it may at least be said that, if it should be accepted, the

ballad would be quite as faithful to history as many others.

#A#-#E# are the purer forms of the ballad; #F#-#J# are corrupted by

admixture.

Geordie is Geordie Lukely of Stirling in #F#. In #G#, he is the Earl of

Cassilis, ‘of Hye,’ as if some singer of the Gordons had turned the

tables on Huntly’s enemy. In #H#, Geordie lives at the Bog o Gight, and

should be the Earl, or Marquis, of Huntly; but writers of peerages will

consult st. 17.

There has been a battle in the North in #A#-#E#. Sir Charles Hay[89] has

been killed, and Geordie is in custody for this, #A#, #B#. Geordie has

killed a man and is to die, #C#; the man is his wife’s brother, #D#. In

#E#, Geordie is a rebel.

#F# begins with two stanzas from a vulgar last-dying-speech, of which

more by and by: otherwise the story is not essentially injured, though

the style is lowered. Geordie (in the first two stanzas) has done many

an ill deed, but no murder or slaughter; he has stolen fifteen of the

king’s horse and sold them in Bohemia. Earl Cassilis, likewise, in #G#,

could not keep his hand off horses; he has stolen three geldings out of

a park and sold them to Balleny (Balveny). Huntly, if it be he, in #H#,

has only made free with the king’s deer. In #I#, #J#, Geordie has had an

intrigue with Bignet’s (Pilbagnet’s, Badenoch’s) lady, for which the

husband has thrown him into prison, and he is to die. But he owns to

more than this in #J#. Beginning with an acknowledgment of one of the

king’s best steeds stolen and sold in ‘Bevany,’ upon being pressed, he

confesses to a woman abused and five orphan babes killed for their

money.

Geordie points his message to his wife in #C# 2, #D# 4, by begging her

to sew him or bring him his linen shirt (shirts), a good side shirt,

which will be the last he shall need, and a lang side sark is equally

prominent in the lady’s thoughts in #I# 8.

The lady stops for nothing in her ride to Edinburgh. She will not, and

does not, eat or drink all the way, #A# 4, 5. When she comes to the

water-side, finding no boat ready, she swims the Queen’s Ferry, #B# 7,

#C# 5, #D# 9, #J# 13, #L# 1; or pays a boatman prodigally to take her

over, #H# 9, #I# 9, #J# 14.

When the lady gaes oer the pier of Leith, comes to Edinburgh, to the

West Port, the Canongate, the Parliament Close, the tolbooth-stair, the

prison-door, she deals out crowns and ducatoons, makes the handfus o red

gold fly, among the numerous poor, and bids them pray for Geordie. She

has the prudence, in #G# 5, to do the same among the nobles many at the

tolbooth-gate, that they may plead for Geordie.

The block and axe are in sight, and Geordie, in chains, is coming down

the stair, #A#; the napkin is laid over his face, and the gallows is

making ready, #B# (so #F#, but put further on), his head is to go, #C#;

the rest of the nobles sit (stand) hat on head, but hat in hand stands

Geordie, #D#, #E#, #H#, #I#, #J#, #L#.

The lady makes a plea for her husband’s life. She is the mother of many

children (the tale ranges from six to eleven) and is going with yet

another, #B#, #C#, #K#, #N#. She would bear them all over again for the

life of Geordie, #C#, #D#, or see them all streekit before her eyes,

#B#; and for his life she will part with all that she owns, #A# 10, #B#

11, 16, #D# 14.

The king in #A# is moved by neither of these appeals. The number of her

children is so far from affecting him that he orders the heading-man to

make haste. But the Gordons collect and pass the word to be ready. There

would have been bloody bouks upon the green.[90]

The lady is told that by paying a good round sum, 5,000 (500) pounds,

10,000 (1000) crowns, she can redeem Geordie’s life. An aged lord

prompts the king to offer these terms in #A#; in the other versions,

they are proposed directly; by the king himself, #F#, #G#, #I#; by the

queen, #B#, #I#; by the good Argyle, #D#; by an English lord, #H#. The

bystanders contribute handsomely; she pays the ransom down, and wins the

life of Geordie, #A#-#D#, #G#-#J#.

In #E#, which is a mere fragment, there is no fine or collection: a bold

baron says, such true lovers shall not be parted, and she gets her

Geordie forthwith. In #F#, no contribution is required, because the

lady, after scattering the red gold among the poor, is still in a

condition to produce the five thousand pound from her own pocket. For

this she receives a ‘remit,’ with which she hies to the gallows and

stops the impending execution. In #I b#, which is defective, the money

collected is to pay the jailer’s fee. After the discharge has been

secured (in two or three copies earlier), Lord Corstorph, #B a#, the

Laird o Logie, #B b#, an Irish lord, #C#, #H#, an English lord, #D#, the

_gleid_ Argyle, #I#, Lord Montague, #J#, expresses a wish that Geordie’s

head were off, because he might have succeeded to the lady. The lady

checks this aspiration, sometimes in very abusive language.

The pair now ride off together, and when she is set in her saddle, no

bird in bush or on briar ever sang so sweet as she, #B#, #C#, #E#, #F#,

#H#, #I#. If we were to trust some of those who recite her story, the

lady who has shown so much spirit and devotion was not one of those who

blush to find good deeds fame. ‘Gar print me ballants that I am a worthy

lady,’ #B# 30 makes her say; ‘Hae me to some writer’s house, that I may

write down Gight’s lament and how I borrowed Geordie,’ #I a# 25; ‘Call

for one of the best clerks, that he may write all this I’ve done for

Geordie,’ #J# 36. What she really did say is perhaps faithfully given in

#D# 18: ‘Where is there a writer’s house, that I may write to the north

that I have won the life of Geordie?’

#I# and #J# are probably from stall-prints, and it has not been thought

necessary to notice some things which may have been put into these to

eke them out to a convenient length. #J# has an entirely spurious

supplement. When the pair are riding away, and even as the wife is

protesting her affection, Geordie turns round and says, A finger of

Bignet’s lady’s hand is worth a’ your fair body. A dispute ensues, and

Geordie pulls out a dagger and stabs his lady; he then takes to flight,

and never is found. Another set, mentioned by Motherwell, makes Geordie

drown his deliverer in the sea, in a fit of jealousy (Minstrelsy, p.

lxxvi, 46).

There is an English broadside ballad, on the death of “George Stoole”

which seemed to Motherwell “evidently imitated from the Scottish song.”

This was printed by H. Gosson, whose time is put at 1607–41.[91] This

ballad was to be sung “to a delicate Scottish tune;” Georgy comes in as

a rhyme at the end of stanzas not seldom; Georgy writes to his lady,

bewailing his folly; he never stole no oxe nor cow, nor ever murdered

any, but fifty horse he did receive of a merchant’s man of Gory, for

which he was condemned to die, and did die. These are the data for

determining the question of imitation.

There is a later ‘Georgy’ ballad, of the same general cast, on the life

and death of “George of Oxford,” a professed and confessed highwayman, a

broadside printed in the last quarter of the seventeenth century. In

this, Lady Gray hastens to Newcastle to beg Georgy’s life of the judge,

and offers gold and land to save him, after the fashion of Lady Ward in

‘Hughie Graham;’ to no purpose, as in ‘Hughie Graham.’ This Georgy owns

and boasts himself a thief, but with limitations much the same as those

which are made a point of by the other; he never stole horse, mare, or

cloven-foot, with one exception—the king’s white steeds, which he sold

to Bohemia.

Both of these ballads are given in an appendix.

Whether the writers of these English ballads knew of the Scottish

‘Geordie,’ I would not undertake to affirm or deny; it is clear that

some far-back reciter of the Scottish ballad had knowledge of the later

English broadside. The English ballads, however, are mere “goodnights.”

The Scottish ballads have a proper story, with a beginning, middle, and

end, and (save one late copy), a good end, and they are most certainly

original and substantially independent of the English. The Scottish

Geordie is no thief, nor even a Johnie Armstrong. There are certain

passages in certain versions which give that impression, it is true, but

these are incongruous with the story, and have been adopted from some

copy of the broadside, the later rather than the earlier. These are, the

first two stanzas of #F#, utterly out of place, where we have the king’s

horses stolen and sold in Bohemia, almost exactly as in the ballad of

‘George of Oxford,’ 15; #G# 7, where the Earl of Cassilis is made to

steal geldings and sell them in Balleny; and #J# 23, in which the Laird

of Gight steals one of the king’s steeds (precisely as in ‘George of

Oxford’) and sells it in Bevany. That is to say, we have the very

familiar case of the introduction (generally accidental and often

infelicitous) of a portion of one ballad into another; which, if

accidental in the present instance, would easily be accounted for by a

George being the hero in each. Further; the burden of #E#, embodied in

the ballad in two versions, #I# 27, #J# 35, has a general resemblance to

that of ‘George Stoole,’ and could hardly have been original with the

Scottish ballad. There was probably a ‘Geordie Luklie,’ a Scottish

variety of one of the English broadsides.

#G# is translated by Gerhard, p. 56; #A#, in part, by Knortz,

Schottische Balladen, p. 101.

* * * * *

Johnson’s Museum, No 346, p. 357, 1792; communicated by Robert

Burns.

There was a battle in the north,

And nobles there was many,

And they hae killd Sir Charlie Hay,

And they laid the wyte on Geordie.

O he has written a lang letter,

He sent it to his lady:

‘Ye maun cum up to Enbrugh town,

To see what word’s o Geordie.’

When first she lookd the letter on,

She was baith red and rosy;

But she had na read a word but twa

Till she wallowt like a lily.

‘Gar get to me my gude grey steed,

My menyie a’ gae wi me,

For I shall neither eat nor drink

Till Enbrugh town shall see me.’

And she has mountit her gude grey steed,

Her menyie a’ gaed wi her,

And she did neither eat nor drink

Till Enbrugh town did see her.

And first appeard the fatal block,

And syne the aix to head him,

And Geordie cumin down the stair,

And bands o airn upon him.

But tho he was chaind in fetters strang,

O airn and steel sae heavy,

There was na ane in a’ the court

Sae bra a man as Geordie.

O she’s down on her bended knee,

I wat she’s pale and weary:

‘O pardon, pardon, noble king,

And gie me back my dearie!

‘I hae born seven sons to my Geordie dear,

The seventh neer saw his daddie;

O pardon, pardon, noble king,

Pity a waefu lady!’

‘Gar bid the headin-man mak haste,’

Our king reply’d fu lordly:

‘O noble king, tak a’ that’s mine,

But gie me back my Geordie!’

The Gordons cam, and the Gordons ran,

And they were stark and steady,

And ay the word amang them a’

Was, Gordons, keep you ready!

An aged lord at the king’s right hand

Says, Noble king, but hear me;

Gar her tell down five thousand pound,

And gie her back her dearie.

Some gae her marks, some gae her crowns,

Some gae her dollars many,

And she’s telld down five thousand pound,

And she’s gotten again her dearie.

She blinkit blythe in her Geordie’s face,

Says, Dear I’ve bought thee, Geordie;

But there sud been bluidy bouks on the green

Or I had tint my laddie.

He claspit her by the middle sma,

And he kist her lips sae rosy:

‘The fairest flower o woman-kind

Is my sweet, bonie lady!’

* * * * *

#a.# “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 13,

Abbotsford. Sent to Scott by William Laidlaw, September 11, 1802

(Letters, vol. i, No 73), as written down by Laidlaw from the

recitation of Mr Bartram of Biggar. #b.# Variations received by

Laidlaw from J. Scott.

‘There was a battle i the north

Amang our nobles many,

And they have killed Sir Charles Hay,

And they’ve taen thrae me my Geordie.’

‘O where’ll I gett a wi bit boy,

A bonnie boy that’s ready,

That will gae in to my biggin

With a letter to my ladie?’

Then up and startit a wi bit boy,

An a bonnie boy was ready:

‘It’s I’ll gae in to your biggin

Wi a letter to your ladie.’

When the day was fair an the way was clear,

An the wi bit boy was ready,

An he’s gane in to his biggin,

Wi a letter to his ladie.

When she lookd the letter on,

She was no a wearit ladie;

But when she lookit the other side,

She mourned for her Geordie.

‘Gar sadle to me the black,’ she says,

‘For the brown rade neer sey bonnie,

An I’ll gae down to Enbro town,

An see my true-love Geordie.’

When she cam to the water-side,

The cobles war na ready;

She’s turnd her horse’s head about,

An in by the Queen’s Ferry.

When she cam to the West Port,

There war poor folks many;

She dealt crowns an the ducatdowns,

And bade them pray for Geordie.

When she cam to the Parliament Closs,

There amang our nobles many,

Cravats an caps war standing there,

But low, low lay her Geordie.

When she gaed up the tolbooth-stairs,

Amang our nobles manie,

The napkin’s tyed oer Geordie’s face,

And the gallows makin ready.

‘O wad ye hae his lands or rents?

Or wad ye hae his monie?

Take a’, a’ frae him but his sark alone,

Leave me my true-love Geordie.’

The captain pu’d her on his knee,

An ca’d her heart an honey:

‘An ye wad wait se’en years for me,

Ye wad never jump for Geordie.’

‘O hold your tongue, you foolish man,

Your speech it’s a’ but folly;

For an ye wad wait till the day ye die,

I wad neer take John for Geordie.’

’Twas up an spak the Lord Corstarph,

The ill gae wi his body!

‘O Geordie’s neck it war on a block,

Gif I had his fair ladie!’

‘O haud yer tongue, ye foolish man,

Yer speech is a’ but folly;

For if Geordie’s neck war on a block,

Ye sould neer enjoy his ladie.

‘It’s I hae se’en weel gawn mills,

I wait they a’ gang daily;

I’ll gie them a’ an amang ye a’

For the sparin o my Geordie.

‘I hae ele’en bairns i the wast,

I wait the’re a’ to Geordie;

I’d see them a’ streekit afore mine eyes

Afore I lose my Geordie.

‘I hae ele’en bairns i the wast,

The twalt bears up my body;

The youngest’s on his nurse’s knee,

An he never saw his dadie.

‘I hae se’en uncles in the north,

They gang baith proud an lordly;

I’d see them a’ tread down afore my eyes

Afore I lose my Geordie.’

Then out an spak an English lord,

The ill gae wi his bodie!

‘It’s I gard hang Sir Francie Grey,

An I’ll soon gar hang your Geordie.’

It’s out an spak than a Scottish lord,

May the weel gae wi his body!

‘It’s I’ll cast of my coat an feght

Afore ye lose your Geordie.’

It’s out then spak an English lord,

May the ill gae wi his bodie!

‘Before the morn at ten o’clock,

I’s hae the head o Geordie.’

Out then spak the Scottish lord,

May the weel gae wi his body!

‘I’ll fight i bluid up to the knees

Afore ye lose your Geordie.’

But out an spak the royal king,

May the weel gae wi his body!

‘There’s be bluidie heads among us a’

Afore ye lose your Geordie.’

’Twas up than spak the royal queen,

‘May the weel gae wi his body!

Tell down, tell down five hunder pound,

An ye’s get wi you yer Geordie.’

Some gae her gold, some gae her crowns,

Some gae her ducats many,

An she’s telld down five hundred pound,

An she’s taen away her Geordie.

An ay she praisd the powers above,

An a’ the royal family,

An ay she blessed the royal queen,

For sparin o her Geordie.

. . . . . . .

Nae bird sang sweeter in the bush

Than she did wi her Geordie.

‘It’s wo be to my Lord Costorph,

It’s wo be to him daily!

For if Geordie’s neck had been on the block

He had neer enjoyd his ladie.

‘Gar print me ballants weel,’ she said,

‘Gar print me ballants many,

Gar print me ballants weel,’ she said,

‘That I am a worthy ladie.’

* * * * *

#a.# “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” Abbotsford,

No 38, MS. of Thomas Wilkie, 1813–15, p. 16; taken down from the

singing of Miss Christy Robertson, Dunse. #b.# “Scotch Ballads,”

etc., No 108, in a lady’s hand, and perhaps obtained directly from

Miss Robertson.

There was a battle in the north,

Among the nobles many;

The Laird of Geight he’s killd a man,

And there’s nane to die but Geordie.

* * * * * *

‘What news? what news, my bonny boy?

What news hae ye frae Geordie?’

‘He bids ye sew his linen shirts,

For he’s sure he’ll no need many.’

‘Go saddle the black, go saddle the brown,

Go saddle to me the bonny;

For I will neither eat nor drink

Until I see my Geordie.’

They’ve saddled the black, they’ve saddled the brown,

They’ve saddled her the bonny,

And she is away to Edinborough town,

Straight away to see her Geordie.

When she came to the sea-side,

The boats they were nae ready;

She turned her horse’s head about,

And swimd at the Queen’s Ferry.

And when she came to the prison-door,

There poor folks they stood many;

She dealt the red guineas them among,

And bade them pray weel for Geordie.

And when she came into the hall,

Amang the nobles many,

The napkin’s tied on Geordie’s face,

And the head’s to gae frae Geordie.

‘I have born ten bonny sons,

And the eleventh neer sa his dadie,

And I will bear them all oer again

For the life o bonny Geordie.

‘I have born the Laird of Gight,

And the Laird of bonny Pernonnie;

And I will gie them all to thee

For the life of my bonny Geordie.’

Up then spoke [a kind-hearted man],

Wha said, He’s done good to many;

If ye’ll tell down ten hundred crowns

Away ye shall hae yer Geordie.

Some telld shillings, and some telld crowns,

But she telld the red guineas many,

Till they’ve telld down ten hundred crowns,

And away she’s got her Geordie.

[It’s up then spoke an Irish lord,

And O but he spoke bauldly!]

‘I wish his head had been on the block,

That I might hae got his fair lady.’

She turned about . . . .

And O but she spoke boldly!

‘A pox upon your nasty face!

Will ye eer be compared to my Geordie?’

She set him on a milk-white steed,

Herself upon another;

The thrush on the briar neer sang so clear

As she sang behind her Geordie.

* * * * *

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 64, MS. of

Thomas Wilkie, 1813–15, p. 50, Abbotsford. “I took this down from

the recitation of Janet Scott, Bowden, who sung it to a beautiful

plaintive old air.”

There was a battle i the north

Among the nobles many,

The Laird of Gigh he’s killd a man,

The brother of his lady.

‘Where will I get a man or boy,

That will win both goud and money,

That will run into the north,

And fetch to me my lady?’

Up then spake a bonny boy,

He was both blythe and merry;

‘O I will run into the north,

And fetch to you your lady.’

‘You may tell her to sew me a gude side shirt,

She’ll no need to sew me mony;

Tell her to bring me a gude side shirt,

It will be the last of any.’

He has written a broad letter.

And he’s seald it sad and sorry;

He’s gaen it to that bonny boy,

To take to his fair lady.

Away the bonny boy he’s gaen,

He was both blythe and merrie;

He’s to that fair lady gane,

And taen her word frae Geordie.

When she looked the letter on,

She was both sad and sorrie:

‘O I’ll away to fair Edinburgh town

Myself and see my Geordie.

‘Gar saddle to me the black,’ she says,

‘The brown was neer sae bonny;

And I’ll straight to Edinburgh

Myself and see my Geordie.’

When she came to that wan water,

The boats was not yet ready;

She wheeld her horse’s head around,

And swimd at the Queen’s Ferry.

When she came to the Parliament Close,

Amang the poor folks many,

She dealt the crowns with duckatoons,

And bade them pray for Geordy.

When she came to the Parliament House,

Among the nobles many,

The rest sat all wi hat on head,

But hat in hand sat Geordie.

Up bespake an English lord,

And he spake blythe and merrie;

‘Was Geordie’s head upon the block,

I am sure I would have his lady.’

Up bespake that lady fair,

And O but she was sorrie!

‘If Geordie’s head were on the block,

There’s never a man gain his lady.

‘I have land into the north,

And I have white rigs many,

And I could gie them a’ to you

To save the life of Geordie.

‘I have seven children in the north,

And they seem very bonnie,

And I could bear them a’ over again

For to win the life o Geordie.’

Up bespake the gude Argyle;

He has befriended many;

‘If ye’ll tell down ten hundred crowns,

Ye’s win the life o Geordie.’

Some gaed her shillings, and some her crowns,

And some gaed her guineas many,

And she’s telld down ten hundred crowns,

And she’s wone the life o Geordie.

When she came down through Edinborough,

And Geordie in her hand, O,

‘Where will I get a writer’s [house],

A writer’s house so ready,

That I may write into the north

I have wone the life o Geordie’?

* * * * *

#a.# Kinloch MSS, V, 130; in the handwriting of James Beattie. #b.#

Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 192.

There was a battle in the north,

And rebels there were many,

And they were a’ brought before the king,

And taken was my Geordie.

My Geordie O, O my Geordie O,

O the love I bear to Geordie!

For the very ground I walk upon

Bears witness I love Geordie.

As she went up the tolbooth-stair,

The cripples there stood many,

And she dealt the red gold them among,

For to pray for her love Geordie.

And when she came unto the hall

The nobles there stood many,

And every one stood hat on head,

But hat in hand stood Geordie.

O up bespoke a baron bold,

And O but he spoke bonnie!

‘Such lovers true shall not parted be,’

And she’s got her true-love Geordie.

When she was mounted on her high horse,

And on behind her Geordie,

Nae bird on the brier eer sang sae clear

As the young knight and his lady.

O my Geordie O, O my Geordie O,

O the love I bear to Geordie!

The very stars in the firmament

Bear tokens I love Geordie.

* * * * *

Motherwell’s MS., p. 367; from the recitation of Agnes Lyle,

Kilbarchan.

‘Geordie Lukely is my name,

And many a one doth ken me; O

Many an ill deed I hae done,

But now death will owrecome me. O

‘I neither murdered nor yet have I slain,

I never murdered any;

But I stole fyfteen o the king’s bay horse,

And I sold them in Bohemia.

‘Where would I get a pretty little boy,

That would fain win gold and money,

That would carry this letter to Stirling town,

And give it to my lady?’

‘Here am I, a pretty little boy,

That wud fain win gold and money;

I’ll carry your letter to Stirling town,

And give it to your lady.’

As he came in by Stirling town

He was baith weet and weary;

The cloth was spread, and supper set,

And the ladies dancing merry.

When she read the first of it,

She was baith glad and cheery;

But before she had the half o ‘t read,

She was baith sad and sorry.

‘Come saddle to me the bonnie dapple gray,

Come saddle to me the wee poney;

For I’ll awa to the king mysell,

And plead for my ain love Geordie.’

She gaed up the Cannogate,

Amang the puir folk monie;

She made the handfus o red gold fly,

And bade them pray for Geordie,

And aye she wrang her lily-white hands,

Saying, I am a wearyd lady!

Up and spoke the king himsell,

And oh, but he spok bonnie!

‘It’s ye may see by her countenance

That she is Geordie’s lady.’

Up and spoke a bold bluidy wretch,

And oh, but he spoke boldly!

‘Tho [thou] should pay ten thousand pounds,

Thou’ll never get thy own love Geordie.

‘For I had but ae brother to mysell,

I loved him best of any;

They cutted his head from his fair bodie,

And so will they thy love Geordie.’

Up and spoke the king again,

And oh, but he spak bonnie!

‘If thou’ll pay me five thousand pound,

I’ll gie thee hame thy love Geordie.’

She put her hand in her pocket,

She freely paid the money,

And she’s awa to the Gallows Wynd,

To get her nain love Geordie.

As she came up the Gallows Wynd,

The people was standing many;

The psalms was sung, and the bells was rung,

And silks and cords hung bonnie.

The napkin was tyed on Geordie’s face,

And the hangman was just readie:

‘Hold your hand, you bluidy wretch!

O hold it from my Geordie!

For I’ve got a remit from the king,

That I’ll get my ain love Geordie.’

When he heard his lady’s voice,

He was baith blythe and merry:

‘There’s many ladies in this place;

Have not I a worthy ladie?’

She mounted him on the bonnie dapple grey,

Herself on the wee poney,

And she rode home on his right hand,

All for the pride o Geordie.

* * * * *

Motherwell’s Note-Book, p. 17, p. 10; from Mrs Rule, Paisley, August

16, 1825. Apparently learned from a blind aunt, pp. 1, 3.

The weather it is clear, and the wind blaws fair,

And yonder a boy rins bonnie,

And he is awa to the gates of Hye,

With a letter to my dear ladie.

The first line that she lookit on,

She was baith red and rosy;

She droppit down, and she dropt in a swoon,

Crys, Och and alace for Geordie!

‘Gar saddle to me the black, black horse;

The brown is twice as bonnie;

But I will neither eat nor drink

Till I relieve my Geordie.’

When she cam to the canny Cannygate,

Amang the puir folk many,

She made the dollars flee amang them a’,

And she bade them plead for Geordie.

When she came to the tolbooth-gate,

Amang the nobles many,

She made the red gold flee amang them a’,

And she bade them plead for Geordie.

Out and spoke the king himsell,

‘Wha’s aught this weary lady?’

Out and spoke a pretty little page,

‘She’s the Earl o Cassilis lady.’

‘Has he killed? or has he slain?

Or has he ravishd any?’

‘He stole three geldings out o yon park,

And sold them to Balleny.’

‘Pleading is idle,’ said the king,

‘Pleading is idle with any;

But pay you down five hundred pund,

And tak you hame your Geordie.’

Some gave marks, and som gave crowns,

Some gave dollars many;

She’s paid down the five hundred pund,

And she’s relieved her Geordie.

The lady smiled in Geordie’s face:

‘Geordie, I have bocht thee;

But down in yon green there had been bluidy breeks

Or I had parted wi thee.’

* * * * *

Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, II, 44; “long favorite in the

counties of Aberdeen and Banff.”

‘Will ye go to the Hielans, my bonny lad?

Will ye go to the Hielans, Geordie?

Though ye tak the high road and I tak the low,

I will be in the Hielans afore ye.’

He hadna been in the high Hielans

A month but barely twa, O,

Till he was laid in prison strong,

For hunting the king’s deer and rae, O.

‘O where will I get a bonny, bonny boy,

That will run my errand cannie,

And gae quickly on to the bonny Bog o Gight,

Wi a letter to my lady?’

‘O here am I, a bonny, bonny boy,

That will run your errand cannie,

And will gae on to the bonny Bog o Gight,

Wi a letter to your lady.’

When she did get this broad letter,

A licht, licht laugh gae she, O;

But before she read it to an end

The saut tear was in her ee, O.

‘O has he robbd? or has he stown?

Or has he killëd ony?

Or what is the ill that he has done,

That he’s gaun to be hangd sae shortly?’

‘He hasna robbd, he hasna stown,

He hasna killëd ony;

But he has hunted the king’s deer and rae,

And he will be hangëd shortly.’

‘Come saddle to me the bonny brown steed,

For the black never rade sae bonny,

And I will gae on to Edinboro town

To borrow the life o my Geordie.’

The first water-side that she cam to,

The boatman wasna ready;

She gae anither skipper half-a-crown,

To boat her oer the ferry.

When she cam on to Edinboro town,

The poor stood thick and mony;

She dealt them money roun and roun,

Bade them pray for the life o her Geordie.

When she gaed up the tolbooth-stair,

She saw there nobles mony,

And ilka noble stood hat on head,

But hat in hand stood Geordie.

Then out it spak an English lord,

And vow, but he spake bonny!

‘If ye pay down ten thousand crouns,

Ye’ll get the life o your Geordie.’

Some gae her marks, some gae her crouns,

Some gae her guineas rarely,

Till she paid down ten thousand crouns,

And she got the life o her Geordie.

Then out it spak an Irish lord,

O wae befa his body!

‘It’s a pity the knicht didna lose his head,

That I micht hae gotten his lady.’

But out it spak the lady hersel,

And vow, but she spak bonny!

‘The pock-marks are on your Irish face,

You could not compare wi my Geordie!’

When she was in the saddle set,

And on ahint her Geordie,

The bird on the bush neer sang sae sweet,

As she sung to her love Geordie.

‘First I was mistress o bonny Auchindown,

And I was lady o a’ Carnie,

But now I have come to the bonny Bog o Gight,

The wife o my true-love Geordie.

‘If I were in the high Hielans,

I would hear the white kye lowing;

But I’d rather be on the bonny banks o Spey,

To see the fish-boaties rowing.’

* * * * *

#a.# Buchan’s MSS, II, 143. #b.# Kinloch MSS, VI, 1, in the

handwriting of Joseph Robertson.

‘I choosed my love at the bonny yates of Gight,

Where the birks an the flowers spring bony,

But pleasures I had never one,

But crosses very mony.

‘First I was mistress of Pitfan

And madam of Kincraigie,

And now my name is bonny Lady Anne,

And I am Gight’s own lady.

‘He does not use me as his wife,

Nor cherish me as his lady,

But day by day he saddles the grey,

And rides off to Bignet’s lady.’

Bignet he got word of this,

That Gight lay wi his lady;

He swore a vow, and kept it true,

To be revengd on’s body.

‘Where will I get a bonny boy

Will run my errand shortly,

That woud run on to the bonny yates o Gight

Wi a letter to my lady?’

Gight has written a broad letter,

And seald it soon and ready,

And sent it on to Gight’s own yates,

For to acquaint his lady.

The first of it she looked on,

O dear! she smiled bonny;

But as she read it till an end

The tears were thick an mony.

‘Come saddle to me the black,’ she says,

‘Come saddle him soon and shortly,

Ere I ride down to Edinburgh town,

Wi a lang side sark to Geordy.’

When she came to the boat of Leith,

I wad she did na tarry;

She gave the boatman a guinea o gold

To boat her oer the ferry.

As she gaed oer the pier of Leith,

Among the peerls many,

She dealt the crowns and dukedoons,

Bade them a’ pray for Geordy.

As she gaed up the tolbooth-stair,

Among the nobles many,

Every one sat hat on head,

But hat in hand stood Geordy.

‘Has he brunt? or has he slain?

Or has he robbëd any?

Or has he done any other crime,

That gars you head my Geordy?’

‘He hasna brunt, he hasna slain,

He hasna robbed any;

But he has done another crime,

For which he will pay dearly.’

In it comes him First Lord Judge,

Says, George, I’m sorry for you;

You must prepare yourself for death,

For there’ll be nae mercy for you.

In it comes him Second Lord Judge,

Says, George I’m sorry for you;

You must prepare yourself for death,

For there’ll be nae mercy for you.

Out it speaks Gight’s lady herself,

And vow, but she spake wordy!

‘Is there not a lord among you all

Can plead a word for Geordy?’

Out it speaks the first Lord Judge:

‘What lady’s that amang you

That speaks to us so boldly here,

And bids us plead for Geordy?’

Out then spake a friend, her own,

And says, It’s Gight’s own lady,

Who is come to plead her own lord’s cause,

To which she’s true and steady.

The queen, looking oer her shott-window,

Says, Ann, I’m sorry for you;

If ye’ll tell down ten thousand crowns,

Ye shall get home your Geordy.

She’s taen the hat out of his hand,

And dear! it set her bonny;

She’s beggd the red gold them among,

And a’ to borrow Geordy.

She turnd her right and round about

Among the nobles many;

Some gave her dollars, some her crowns,

And some gave guineas many.

She spread her mantle on the floor,

O dear! she spread it bonny,

And she told down that noble sum;

Says, Put on your hat, my Geordy.

But out it speaks him gleid Argyle,

Says, Woe be to your body!

I wish that Gight had lost his head,

I should enjoyd his lady.

She looked oer her left shoulder,

A proud look and a saucy;

Says, Woe be to you, gleid Argyle!

Ye’ll neer be like my Geordy.

‘You’ll hae me to some writer’s house,

And that baith seen and shortly,

That I may write down Gight’s lament,

And how I borrowed Geordy.’

When she was in her saddle set,

And aye behind her Geordy,

Birds neer sang blyther in the bush

Than she behind her Geordy.

‘O bonny George, but I love thee well,

And O sae dear as I love thee!

The sun and moon and firmament above

Bear witness how I love thee!’

‘O bonny Ann, but I love thee well,

And O but sae dear as I love thee!

The birds in the air, that fly together pair and pair,

Bear witness, Ann, that I love thee!’

* * * * *

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 133.

‘First I was lady o Black Riggs,

And then into Kincraigie;

Now I am the Lady o Gight,

And my love he’s ca’d Geordie.

‘I was the mistress o Pitfan,

And madam o Kincraigie;

But now my name is Lady Anne,

And I am Gight’s own lady.

‘We courted in the woods o Gight,

Where birks and flowrs spring bonny;

But pleasures I had never one,

But sorrows thick and mony.

‘He never ownd me as his wife,

Nor honourd me as his lady,

But day by day he saddles the grey,

And rides to Bignet’s lady.’

When Bignet he got word of that,

That Gight lay wi his lady,

He’s casten him in prison strong,

To ly till lords were ready.

‘Where will I get a little wee boy,

That is baith true and steady,

That will run on to bonny Gight,

And bring to me my lady?’

‘O here am I, a little wee boy,

That is baith true and steady,

That will run to the yates o Gight,

And bring to you your lady.’

‘Ye’ll bid her saddle the grey, the grey,

The brown rode neer so smartly;

Ye’ll bid her come to Edinbro town,

A’ for the life of Geordie.’

The night was fair, the moon was clear,

And he rode by Bevany,

And stopped at the yates o Gight,

Where leaves were thick and mony.

The lady lookd oer castle-wa,

And dear, but she was sorry!

‘Here comes a page frae Edinbro town;

A’ is nae well wi Geordie.

‘What news, what news, my little boy?

Come tell me soon and shortly;’

‘Bad news, bad news, my lady,’ he said,

‘They’re going to hang your Geordie.’

‘Ye’ll saddle to me the grey, the grey,

The brown rade neer so smartly;

And I’ll awa to Edinbro town,

Borrow the life o Geordie.’

When she came near to Edinbro town,

I wyte she didna tarry,

But she has mounted her grey steed,

And ridden the Queen’s Ferry.

When she came to the boat of Leith,

I wat she didna tarry;

She gae the boatman a guinea o gowd

To boat her ower the ferry.

When she came to the pier o Leith,

The poor they were sae many;

She dealt the gowd right liberallie,

And bade them pray for Geordie.

When she gaed up the tolbooth-stair,

The nobles there were many:

And ilka ane stood hat on head,

But hat in hand stood Geordie.

She gae a blink out-ower them a’,

And three blinks to her Geordie;

But when she saw his een fast bound,

A swoon fell in this lady.

‘Whom has he robbd? What has he stole?

Or has he killed ony?

Or what’s the crime that he has done,

His foes they are sae mony?’

‘He hasna brunt, he hasna slain,

He hasna robbed ony;

But he has done another crime,

For which he will pay dearly.’

Then out it speaks Lord Montague,

O wae be to his body!

‘The day we hangd young Charles Hay,

The morn we’ll head your Geordie.’

Then out it speaks the king himsell,

Vow, but he spake bonny!

‘Come here, young Gight, confess your sins,

Let’s hear if they be mony.

‘Come here, young Gight, confess your sins,

See ye be true and steady;

And if your sins they be but sma,

Then ye ‘se win wi your lady.’

‘Nane have I robbd, nought have I stown,

Nor have I killed ony;

But ane o the king’s best brave steeds,

I sold him in Bevany.’

Then out it speaks the king again,

Dear, but he spake bonny!

‘That crime’s nae great; for your lady’s sake,

Put on your hat now, Geordie.’

Then out it speaks Lord Montague,

O wae be to his body!

‘There’s guilt appears in Gight’s ain face,

Ye’ll cross-examine Geordie.’

‘Now since it all I must confess,

My crimes’ baith great and mony:

A woman abused, five orphan babes,

I killd them for their money.’

Out it speaks the king again,

And dear, but he was sorry!

‘Your confession brings confusion,

Take aff your hat now, Geordie.’

Then out it speaks the lady hersell,

Vow, but she was sorry!

‘Now all my life I’ll wear the black,

Mourn for the death o Geordie.’

Lord Huntly then he did speak out,

O fair mot fa his body!

‘I there will fight doublet alane

Or ony thing ails Geordie.’

Then out it speaks the king again,

Vow, but he spake bonny!

‘If ye’ll tell down ten thousand crowns,

Ye’ll buy the life o Geordie.’

She spread her mantle on the ground,

Dear, but she spread it bonny!

Some gae her crowns, some ducadoons,

And some gae dollars mony:

Then she tauld down ten thousand crowns,

‘Put on your hat, my Geordie.’

Then out it speaks Lord Montague,

Wae be to his body!

‘I wisht that Gight wanted the head;

I might enjoyd his lady.’

Out it speaks the lady hersell,

‘Ye need neer wish my body;

O ill befa your wizzend snout!

Woud ye compare wi Geordie?’

When she was in her saddle set,

Riding the leys sae bonny,

The fiddle and fleet playd neer sae sweet

As she behind her Geordie.

‘O Geordie, Geordie, I love you well,

Nae jealousie coud move me;

The birds in air, that fly in pairs,

Can witness how I love you.

‘Ye’ll call for one, the best o clerks,

Ye’ll call him soon and shortly,

As he may write what I indite,

A’ this I’ve done for Geordie.’

He turned him right and round about,

And high, high looked Geordie:

‘A finger o Bignet’s lady’s hand

Is worth a’ your fair body.’

‘My lands may a’ be masterless,

My babes may want their mother;

But I’ve made a vow, will keep it true,

I’ll be bound to no other.’

These words they causd a great dispute,

And proud and fierce grew Geordie;

A sharp dagger he pulled out,

And pierced the heart o ‘s lady.

The lady’s dead, and Gight he’s fled,

And left his lands behind him;

Altho they searched south and north,

There were nane there coud find him.

Now a’ that lived into Black Riggs,

And likewise in Kincraigie,

For seven years were clad in black,

To mourn for Gight’s own lady.

* * * * *

Motherwell’s MS., p. 370, as sung by Agnes Lyle’s father.

‘I have eleven babes into the north,

And the twelfth is in my body, O

And the youngest o them’s in the nurse’s arms,

He neer yet saw his daddy.’ O

Some gied her ducks, some gied her drakes,

And some gied her crowns monie,

And she’s paid him down five thousand pound,

And she’s gotten hame her Geordie.

* * * * *

Cunningham’s Songs of Scotland, II, 186, 188; “from the recitation

of Mrs Cunningham.”

And soon she came to the water broad,

Nor boat nor barge was ready;

She turned her horse’s head to the flood,

And swam through at Queensferry.

But when she to the presence came,

‘Mang earls high and lordlie,

There hat on head sat every man,

While hat in hand stood Geordie.

* * * * *

Motherwell’s Note-Book, pp. 2, 1; from Miss Brown, sister of Dr

James Brown, of Glasgow.

When he came out at the tolbooth-stair,

He was baith red and rosy;

But gin he cam to the gallows-fit,

He was wallourt like the lily.

* * * * *

Motherwell’s Note-Book, p. 20.

I have nine children in the west,

The tenth ane’s in my bodie;

The eldest o them she never knew a man,

And she knows not wha’s her daddy.

* * * * *

#A.#

4^2, 5^2. menzie.

#B. a.#

8^3, 9^3, 19^2, 21^3. & _for_ an.

13^2. for _struck out before_ Your.