JOHN ARMSTRONGS LAST FAREWEL.
Declaring how he and his Eight-scoremen fought a
bloody Battell at Edinburgh.
To the Tune of, Fare thou well bonny Gilt Knock Hall.
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IS their never a Man in all Scotland,
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from the highest state to the lowest degree,
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That can shew himself before the King,
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the World's so full of Treacherie?
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Yea ther's a Man in Westmerland,
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and John Armstrong they do him call,
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He barn no Lands nor Rents coming in,
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yet he keeps eight score men in his Hall.
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He hath 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 Feathers all alike.
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The King he wrote a lovely Letter
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with his own hand right tenderly,
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And sent it to John Armstrong,
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to come and speak with him speedily.
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When John he looked the Letter upon,
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then he was as blyth as a Bird on a Tree,
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I was never before a King in my Life,
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my Father, my Grand Father nor none of us three
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But seeing we must go before the King,
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O! we will go most valiantly,
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Ye shall every one have a Velvet Cap,
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laid on with Golden Laces three.
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And you shal every one have a Scarlet Cloak,
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laid on with Silver Laces five,
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With your Golden Belts about your Necks,
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with Hats, brave Feathers all alike:
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But when John he went from Knock-Hal,
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the Wind it blue hard, and sore it did rain:
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Now fare thee well brave Gilt Knock-Hal,
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I fear I shal never see thee again.
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Now John he is to Edinburgh gone,
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and his eight score 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 down to the Knee,
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But when John came the King before
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with his eight score men so gallant to see,
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The King he moved 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 Liege,
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pardon for my eight score of Men and Me;
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For my Name is John Armstrong,
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and a Subject of yours, my Liege, said he
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Away with thee, thou false Traitor,
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no pardon I will grant to thee;
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But tomorrow before eight of the Clock,
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I will hang thy eight score men and thee
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O how John looked over his left Shoulder,
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and to his merry men thus said;
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I have asked Grace at a graceless face,
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no pardon there is for you and me.
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Then John pul'd out a Nute-brown Sword,
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and it was made of the mettal so free;
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Had not the King moved 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 flee;
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It shall never be said we hung like Dogs,
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no, we'l fight it out couragiously
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Then they fought on like Champions bold,
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for their hearts wer 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 only three.
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But then arose up all Edinburgh,
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they rose up by thousands three;
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And a Cowardly Man came John behind,
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and run him thorrow the fair Bodie;
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Said John, fight on my merry Men all,
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I am a little hurt, but am not slain;
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I will lay me down for to bleed a while,
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then I'l 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 on the plain
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For they were resolved befor they would yeeld
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that every man should 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 unran..
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But when he came up to Gilt-knock-hal,
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the Lady spyed him presently;
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What new, what news, thou little Foot Page,
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what news from thy Master and his companie
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My news is bade, Lady, he said,
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which I do bring, as you may see;
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My Master John 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 hast thou fed at the Corn and Hay;
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But now thou shalt be feed with Bread and wine
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and thy sids shall be spurred no more I say
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O then bespoke his little Son,
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as he did sit on the Nurses knee,
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If ever I live for to be a Man,
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my Fathers Death revenged shall be
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