In a note to ballad No. 99, Child refers to "Lang Johnny More" as "perhaps an imitation and in fact almost a parody of "Johnnie Scot." Thin leas than enthusiastic reference to one of the funniest pieces in the entire canon suggests that the professor's ear for the Scots tongue was less than perfect.
While it is true that the plots of "Lang Johnny More" and "Johnnie Scot" are almost identical, the intonation and general tone of the two ballads are poles apart. Johnnie Scot is "as brave a knight as ever sailed the Rea". The hair that "hung on his head was like threads of gold". He takes a knightly oat to "relieve the damesel that last lay by my side". He fights a duel with an Italian champion swordsman and wins the liberty of his love. This surely is the language of romance and chivalry.
Lang Johnnie More, on the other hand, is a genial giant who talks like an Aberdeenshire ploughman and who, even on the gallows, cannot bring himself to take his captors seriously. Auld Johnny and Jock o' moth are two amiable old worthies, still able in their dotage to run from North Aberdeenshire to Loudon in some two-and-a-half days. At the gates of the city, they indulge in no heroics but casually kick a hole in the wall and enter that way. Hy riding in "by Drury Lane and doon by the toon ha'", they reduce London to a country town of manageable size.
Much of the irony is directed inwards at the Scots' sense of exaggerated self-esteem and at what is sometimes seen as an obsessional national compulsion to deafen the world with assertions of masculinity.
Parody? Perhaps, but if so, the parody is a great deal mare interesting than the original model.
lyrics
There lives a man in Rynie's land
And anither in Auchindore,
But the bravest lad among them a'
Was Lang Johnnie More.
Now, Johnnie, he's a growin' lad
Fu' sturdy, stout and strang,
And the sword that hung by Johnnie's side
Was fully ten feet lang.
Now, Johnnie was a clever youth
A sturdy lad o' might,
He was full three yards aboot the waist
And fourteen feet in height.
Johnnie's gene to London toon
To see what he could see;
And the fairest lass in a' the lands
Fell in love wi' young Johnnie.
The news has sane through London toon
Till it cam' to the king,
That a muckle Scot has won the hairt
O' his dochter, Lady Jean.
Now, when the king got word o' that,
A muckle oath swore he,
That Johnnie More should stretch a rope
And be hangit on a tree.
Now, Johnnie heard the sentence passed,
A muckle laugh gied he;
While I hae strength to life my sword
They'll no' be hangin' me.
But the English dogs are cunning rogues
And around him they did creep;
And they gied him drops o' laudamy
While he lay fast asleep.
When Johnnie waukened frae his sleep,
A sorry hairt had he,
Wi' jaws and hands in iron bands
And his feet in fetters three.
O, whaur will I get a bonnie boy
That will win meat and fee?
That will rin to my uncle's house
At the foot o' Benachie?
O, here am I, a bonnie boy
Will work for meat and fee;
And I'll rin to your uncle's hoose
At the foot o' Benachie.
When ye come to Benachie,
You'll neither chap nor ca';
But you'll ken auld Johnnie stannin' there
Three foot abune them a'.
Ye'll gie to him this lang letter
Sealed wi' my faith and troth;
And ye'll bid him bring alang wi' him
The lad ca'd Jock o' Noth.
And when he cam' to Benachie
He would neither chap nor ca',
But he kent auld Johnnie stannin there
Three feet abune them a'.
Whit news, whit news, my little wee boy,
You were never here before.
Nae news, nae news, but a letter frae
Your nephew, Johnnie More.
He sends to you this lang letter
Sealed his faith and troth;
And ye're bidden bring alang wi' ye
The lad ca'd Jock o' Noth.
Noo, Benachie lies unco' low
And the tap o' Noth lies high-
But for a' the distance 'tween them twa
They heard auld Johnny cry. very
And when these twa auld champions cam'
A-rinnin' side by side,
There were three feet between their brows,
And their shouthers three yards wide.
They rin ower hills, they rin ower dales,
They ran ower mountains high,
Until they cam' to London toon
At the dawn o' the third day.
And when they cam' to London's gates
Bound wi' an iron band;
Wha should they see but a trumpeter
Wi' a trumpet in his hands.
O, what's the matter, ye keepers all,
And what's the matter within,
That the drums do beat and the bells do ring
And mak' sic a doleful din.
"There's naithin' the matter," the keeper said,
"There's naithin' that matters to thee.
"But a muckle Scot's to stretch a rope
"And this morn he maun dee."
Then open the gates, ye keepers proud,
Open without delay!
But the keeper winked his e'e and said,
"I hanna got the key."
Open the gates, ye keepers proud,
Open without delay!
For here's a laddie at my back
Frae Scotland's brocht the key.
"Ye'll open the gates," says Jock o' Noth,
"Ye'll open them when I ca'!"
And wi' his foot he has drove in
Three yards' breadth o' the wa'.
They geed in by Drury Lane
And doon by the toon' ha',
And there they saw young Johnnie More
Stand on the English wall.
Ye're welcome here, my uncle dear,
Ye're welcome here to me;
Come loose the knot and slack the rope
And set me frae the tree.
O is't for murder or for theft
Or is't for robbery?
If ye've injured ony wee folk here
There's nae remeid for thee.
It's no' for murder nor for theft,
It's no' for robbery;
It's a' for lovin' a bonnie lass
They mean to gar me dee.
"Then whaur's the lady?" says Jock o' Noth,
"It's fain I wad her sea."
She's lockit in her ain chamber
And the king he keeps the key.
So they has gane before the king
Wi' courage bold and free,
And their armour bricht cast sic a licht
It almost blint his e'e.
"O whaur's the lass?" says Jock o' Noth,
"It's fain we wad her see.
"We've come to see her bedded
"Fae the foot o' Benachie."
"O tak' the lady," says the king,
"You're welcome a' for me.
"But I never thought to see sic lads
"Fae the foot o' Bennachie."
"If I'd hae kent," says Jock o' Noth
"Ye'd hae been surprised at me,
"I'd wad hae brocht my brither,
"He's three times as big as me.
"Likewise, if I had thocht that I'd
"Been sic a fright tae thee,
"I'd hae brocht young Jock o' Erskine Park
"He's thirty foot and three."
"Wae be to the bonnie boy," said the king
"That brocht the news to thee.
"Let a' England say what it will,
"High hangit he shall be."
O, if ye hang that bonnie boy
That brocht the news to me,
We'll come to the funeral
And we will bury thee.
"O tak' the lady," says the king
"And let the bonnie boy be."
"A priest, a priest!" young Johnnie cried,
"To join my love and me."
"A clerk, a clerk!" the king he cried,
"To seal her tocher wi'."
"We need nae clerk," auld Johnnie said,
"We need nae gear fae thee.
"For I hoe cows and ewes enough,
"And fifty plows and three,
"And a hunder horse to pu' them wi'
"At the foot o' Benachie."
Hae ye any masons at your court
Or ony at your ca'?
Ye 'd better noo send some o' them
To mend your English wa'.
So auld Johnnie More and young Johnnie More
And Jock o' Noth, a' three,
And the English lady and the little wee boy
Went back to Benachie.
This site is maintained by the MacColl family, aiming to make Ewan's catalogue available to download.
Ewan MacColl is
known to most as a songwriter and singer, but he was also of significant influence in the worlds of theatre and radio broadcasting. His art reached huge numbers through the folk clubs, greater numbers through his recordings and untold millions through the radio....more
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