%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> IOHN ARMSTRONGS LAST FAREWEL. / Declaring how he and his Eight-scoremen fought a / bloody Battell at Edinburgh. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 07/15/2014 34180

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

1 Fare thou well bonny Gilt Knock Hall Johnny Armstrong Fare thou well bonny Gilt Knock Hall IS their never a man in all Scotland, / from the highest state to the lowest degree, Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 64 IOHN ARMSTRONGS LAST FAREWEL. / Declaring how he and his Eight-scoremen fought a / bloody Battell at Edinburgh. JOHN ARMSTRONG'S LAST FAREWELL. Declaring how he and his Eight-score men fought a bloody Battle at Edinburgh. ?-?

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family Featured folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 7/15/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America country/ nation death military/ war royalty violence Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 7/15/2014 12:18:08 PM XBallad Chow, Jeremy Created XML Version of Ballad 7/15/2014 12:18:08 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/15/2014 12:18:08 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/15/2014 12:18:08 PM Transcriptionist Two Barry, Olivia Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/15/2014 12:18:08 PM Transcriptionist One Decker, Gabriel D. Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/14/2014 Checker Megan Palmer Browne Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 12/4/2012 Bibliographer Olivia Miller Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 1/24/2014 Checker Jeremy Chow Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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IS their never a Man in all Scotland, from the highest state to the lowest degree, That can shew himself before the King, the World's so full of Treacherie? Yea ther's a Man in Westmerland, and John Armstrong they do him call, He barn no Lands nor Rents coming in, yet he keeps eight score men in his Hall. He hath Horse and harness for them all, and goodly Steeds that be milk white; With their goodly Belts about their Necks, with Hats and Feathers all alike. The King he wrote a lovely Letter with his own hand right tenderly, And sent it to John Armstrong, to come and speak with him speedily. When John he looked the Letter upon, then he was as blyth as a Bird on a Tree, I was never before a King in my Life, my Father, my Grand Father nor none of us three But seeing we must go before the King, O! we will go most valiantly, Ye shall every one have a Velvet Cap, laid on with Golden Laces three. And you shal every one have a Scarlet Cloak, laid on with Silver Laces five, With your Golden Belts about your Necks, with Hats, brave Feathers all alike: But when John he went from Knock-Hal, the Wind it blue hard, and sore it did rain: Now fare thee well brave Gilt Knock-Hal, I fear I shal never see thee again. Now John he is to Edinburgh gone, and his eight score men so gallantly: And every one of them on a milk white Steed, with their bucklers and swords hanging down to the Knee, But when John came the King before with his eight score men so gallant to see, The King he moved his Bonnet to him, he thought he had been a King as well as He. O Pardon, Pardon, my Soveraign Liege, pardon for my eight score of Men and Me; For my Name is John Armstrong, and a Subject of yours, my Liege, said he Away with thee, thou false Traitor, no pardon I will grant to thee; But tomorrow before eight of the Clock, I will hang thy eight score men and thee
O how John looked over his left Shoulder, and to his merry men thus said; I have asked Grace at a graceless face, no pardon there is for you and me. Then John pul'd out a Nute-brown Sword, and it was made of the mettal so free; Had not the King moved his foot as he did, John had taken his head from his fair Body. Come follow me my merry men all, we will scorn one foot for to flee; It shall never be said we hung like Dogs, no, we'l fight it out couragiously Then they fought on like Champions bold, for their hearts wer sturdy stout and free, Till they had killed all the Kings good Guard, there was none left alive but only three. But then arose up all Edinburgh, they rose up by thousands three; And a Cowardly Man came John behind, and run him thorrow the fair Bodie; Said John, fight on my merry Men all, I am a little hurt, but am not slain; I will lay me down for to bleed a while, then I'l rise and fight with you again. Then they fought on like mad men all, till many a man lay dead on the plain For they were resolved befor they would yeeld that every man should there be slain. So there they fought couragiously, till most of them lay dead there and slain, But little Musgrove that was his Foot Page, with his bonny Grissel got away unran.. But when he came up to Gilt-knock-hal, the Lady spyed him presently; What new, what news, thou little Foot Page, what news from thy Master and his companie My news is bade, Lady, he said, which I do bring, as you may see; My Master John Armstrong is slain, and all his gallant company. Yet thou art welcome home my bonny Grissel, full oft hast thou fed at the Corn and Hay; But now thou shalt be feed with Bread and wine and thy sids shall be spurred no more I say O then bespoke his little Son, as he did sit on the Nurses knee, If ever I live for to be a Man, my Fathers Death revenged shall be
FINIS.