The last Good Night of the Valiant

JOHNNY ARMSTRONG:

SHEWING,

How Johnny Armstrong, and his Eight-score Men fought a
desperate and bloody Battle with the Scottish King at
Edinburgh City: And how he and all his Valiant Men
were slain.

To an Excellent North Country Tune.

Is there never a Man in all Scotland,
From the highest rank to the lowest degree,
That can show himself before the King,
Scotland's so full of treachery?

Yes there's a man in Westmorland,
And Johnny Armstrong they do him call;
He hath no lands nor rents at all,
Yet he keeps eight-score men within his hall.

He has horse and harness for them all,
And goodly deeds that he milk white;
With golden belts about their necks,
And hats and feathers all alike.

The King he writes a loving letter,
And with his own hand so tenderly;
And hath lent it unto John Armstrong,
To come and speak with him speedily.

When Johnny look'd the letter upon,
Good Lord he look'd as byly as a bird on a tree;
I was never before a King in my life,
My Grandfather, Father, nor none of us three.

But feeling we must go before The King,
Lord! we will go molt gallantly,
Ye shall every one have a velvet coat,
Laid down with gold laces three.

And you shall ev'ry one have a scarlet cloak,
Laid down with silver laces five:
With golden belts about your necks,
Your hats and feathers all alike.

But when Johnny went from Guiltnock-Hall,
The wind blew hard, and full fare it did rain;
Now fare thou well thou Guiltnock-hall,
I fear I shall ne'er fee thee again.

Now Johnny is to Edinburgh gone,
With his eight-score Men so gallantly:
And every one on a milk-white bread,
With fword and buckler by his knee.

But when John came the King before,
With his eight-score men so gallantly to fee:
The King moved his bonnet to him,
And thought him a King as well as he.

O pardon! O pardon! I my Sov'reigns Liege,
O pardon my eight-score men and me,
For my name it is Johnny Armstrong:
A Subject of yours, my Liege, said he.

Away with thee thou false traitor,
No Pardon I will grant thee:
But to-morrow morning by eight o'clock,
I'll hang up thy eight-score men and thee;

Then John look'd over his left shoulder,
And to his merry men thus said he:
I have atked Grace of a gracelefs face,
No pardon there is for you and me.

Then John pull'd out his nut brown fword,
Which was made of metal so free:
Had not the King mov'd his foot as he did,
John had taken his head from his body.

Come follow me my merry men all,
We will follow one foot for to fly:
It than't be faid we were hanged like dogs,
We will fight it out molt manfully.

Then they fought on like champions bold,
Their hearts were flurdy flout and free,
Till they killed the King's life-guard,
There were none left but two or three:

But then arofe up all Edinburgh city,
And they arofe up by thowands three:
A cowardly Scot came Johnny behind,
And run him through the fair body.

Said John, fight on my merry men all,
I'm a little wounded but am not flain;
I will lay me down to bleed a while,
And rife to fight with you again.

Then they fought on like madmen all,
Till many a man lay dead on the plain:
They were refole'd before they would yield,
That ev'ry man should there be flain

So they fought on molt courageously,
Till molt of them lay dead and flain:
But little Muſgrove, who was his foot-page,
With bonny Grizel got away unta'en.

And when he came unto Guiltnock-hall,
The Lady eſpy'd him prefently:
What news what news thou bonny foot-page,
What news from thy matter and his company

My news is bad, fair Lady, he faid,
Which I do bring, as you may fee,
My matter Johnny Armstrong he is flain,
And all his brave gallant company.

Thou art welcome home my bonny Grizel,
Full oft thou'st been with corn and hay:
But now thou'll be fed with bread and wine,
Thy fides shall be spurr'd no more, I say.

O then ſpoke out his little pretty fon,
As he fat on his nurse's knee;
If ever I shall live to be a man,
My Father's death shall revenged be.