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Lyrics

Young Johnstone and the young Colonel
Sat drinking at the wine
"It's if you'll marry my sister
It's I will marry thine."

"I wouldn't marry your sister
For all your houses and lands
But it's I will make her my mistress
When I come o'er the strand."

Lyrics continue below...

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Young Johnstone had a little wee sword
Hung low down by his gear
And he's thrust it through the young Colonel
That word he never spoke more

Then he's away to his sister's bower
He's tirled at the pin:
"Where have you been, my dear brother
So late a-coming in?"
"It's I have been at school, lady
Learning young clerks to sing."

"Oh, I have dreamed a dreadful dream
I hope it may be for good
They were seeking you with hawks and hounds
And the young Colonel was dead."

"Hawks and hounds they may seek me
As I trow well they be
For I have killed the young Colonel
Thy own true love was he."

"If you have killed the young Colonel
Then dule and woe is me!
May they hang you from the high gallows
And have no power to flee."

Then he's away to his true love's bower
He's tirled at the pin:
"Where have you been, my dear Johnstone
So late a-coming in?"
"I have been at school, lady
Learning young clerks to sing."

"I have dreamed a dreadful dream
I hope it may be for good
They were seeking you with hawks and hounds
And the young Colonel was dead."

"Hawks and hounds they may seek me
As I trow well they be
For I have killed the young Colonel
Thy own brother was he."

"If you have killed the young Colonel
Then dule and woe is me!
But I care the less for the young Colonel
If thy own body be free."

"Come in, come in, my dear Johnstone
Come in and take a sleep
And I will go to my casement
And carefully I'll thee keep."

She had not well been at her bower door
No not for half an hour
When four and twenty belted knights
Came a-riding by the bower

"Well may you sit and see, lady
Well may you sit and say
Did you not see a bloody squire
Come riding by this way?"

"What colour were his hawks?" she says
"What colour were his hounds?
What colour was the gallant steed
That bore him from the bounds?"

"Bloody, bloody were his hawks
And bloody were his hounds
But milk-white was the gallant steed
That bore him from the bounds."

"Yes, bloody, bloody were his hawks
And bloody were his hounds
But milk-white was the gallant steed
That bore him from the bounds."

"Light down, light down now, gentlemen
And take a glass of wine
And the steed be swift that he rides on
He's past the bridge of Lyne."

"We thank you for your bread, lady
We thank you for your wine
But I'd rather thrice three thousand pound
That that bloody knight was ta'en."

"Lie still, lie still, my dear Johnstone
Lie still and take a sleep
For thy enemies are past and gone
And carefully I'll thee keep."

Young Johnstone had a little wee sword
Hung low down by his gear
And he thrust it in fair Annet's breast
A deep wound and sore

"What aileth thee now, dear Johnstone?
What aileth thee at me?
Have you not got my father's gold
And my mother's fee?"

"Now live, now live, my dear lady
Now live but half an hour
And there's no a leech in all Scotland
But shall be at thy bower."

"How can I live? How shall I live?
Young Johnstone, don't you see
The red, red drops of my heart's blood
Run a-trickling down my knee?

"But take your harp into your hand
And harp out o'er yon plain
And think no more on thy true love
Than if she'd never been."

He had not well been out of the stable
And on the saddle set
When four and twenty broad arrows
Were thrilling in his heart

Writer(s): traditional, june tabor, martin simpson

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