John ARMSTRONG's Last Good-Night.
[D]eclaring how John Armstrong and his eightscore men fought a bloody bout with the Scot-
ish King at Edinborough. To a pretty new Northern Tune.
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IS there never a man in all Scotland,
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from the highest estate, to the lowest degree
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That can shew himself now before the King,
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Scotland is so full of treachery.
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Yes there is a man in Westmorland,
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and Jonny Armstrong they do him call,
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He has no lands nor Rents coming in,
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yet he keeps eightscore men within his hall.
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He has Horse and Harness for them all,
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and goodly steeds that be milk-white,
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With their goodly belts about their Necks,
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with Hats and Leathers all alike.
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The King he writes a loving letter,
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and with his own hand so tenderly,
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And hath sent it unto Johnny Armstrong,
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to come and speak with him speedily.
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When John he looked this letter upon,
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good lord he lookt as blith as a bird in a tree,
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I was never before a King in my life,
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my father, my grandfather, nor none of us three
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But seeing we must go before the king,
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Lord we will goe most gallantly,
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Ye shall every one have a Velvet Coat,
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laid down with Golden Laces three.
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The second Part, to the same Tune.
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ANd ye shall every one have a scarlet Cloak,
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laid down with silver laces five,
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With your golden belts about your necks,
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with Hats and brave Feathers alike.
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But when John he went from Giltknock-hall,
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the wind it blew hard & full fast it did rain,
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Now fare thee well thou Giltknock-hall,
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I fear I shall never see thee again.
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Now Johnny is to Edenborough gone,
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with his eightscore men so gallantly,
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And every one of them on a milk-white steed,
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with their bucklers and Swords hanging to their knee.
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But when John came the King before,
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with his eightscore men so gallant to see,
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The King he mov'd his Bonnet to him,
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he thought he had been a King as well as he.
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O pardon, pardon, my Soveraign Leige,
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pardon for my eightscore men and me,
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For my name it is Johnny Armstrong,
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and a subject of yours, my Leige, said he.
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Away with thee thou false Traytor,
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no pardon will I grant to thee,
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But to morrow morning by eight of the clock
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I will hang up thy eightscore men and thee.
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Then Johnny lookt over his left shoulder,
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and to his merry men thus said he,
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I have asked grace of a graceless face,
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no pardan there is for you or me.
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Then John pull'd out his nut-brown Sword,
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and it was made of mettle so free,
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Had not the King mov'd his foot as he did,
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John had taken his head from his fair body.
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Come follow me my merry men all,
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we will scorn one foot for to flye,
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It shall ne'r be said we were hung like dogs,
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we will fight it out so manfully.
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Then they fought on like Champions bold,
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for their hearts were sturdy, stout and free.
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Till they had killed all the Kings good guard,
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there was none left alive but two or three.
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But then rose up all Edenborough,
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they rose up by the thousands three,
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A cowarly Scot came John behind,
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and run him thorow the fair body.
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Said John fight on my merry men all,
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I am a little wounded but am not slain.
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I will lay me down for to bleed a while,
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then I'le rise and fight with you again.
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Then they fought on like mad men all,
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till many a man lay dead upon the plain,
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For they were resolved before they would yield
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that every man would there be slain.
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So there they fought couragiously,
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till most of them lay dead there and slain,
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But little Musgrove that was his Foot-page,
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with his bonny Grissel got away untain.
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But when he came to Guilt knock-hall,
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the Lady spied him presently,
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What news, what news, thou little Foot-page.
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what news fom thy Master and his company.
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My news is bad, Lady he said,
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which I do bring, as you may see,
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My Master Johnny Armstrong is slain,
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and all his gallant company.
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Yet thou art welcome home my bonny Grissel,
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full oft thou hast been fed with corn and hay
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But now thou shalt be fed with bread and wine
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and thy sides shall be spur'd no more I say.
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O then bespake his little Son,
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as he sat on his Nurses knee,
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If ever I live to be a man,
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my fathers death reveng'd shall be.
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