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.'

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.