ROUD 69: Johnny O'Breadislee

AKA: Johnie Cock, Johnie of Braidislee, Johnnie o' Cocklesmuir, Johnnie Brod, Johnnie o' Braidiesley, Johnny the Brine, James o' Broodies, Johnnie of Cockerslee, Fair John and the Seven Foresters

Detail from illustation in William Platt’s “Stories of the Scottish Border” (1910), illustration by Morris Meredith Williams

This is a classic Border ballad, involving some of the more popular erstwhile pastimes of southern Scotland, including hunting, drinking (wine and blood), and having a big fight, where a lawless yet tragic hero vanquishes multiple foes against the odds. Multiple attempts have been made to link the titular bad-boy to a real person, with varying degrees of plausibility. In this case (more than some of the lascivious tales of aristocratic scandal, anyway) I think the events of the song, namely a reckless poacher getting his comeuppance, will have certainly happened to someone, subsequently having someone sing about their exploits in the pub.

Music

Here is a Youtube playlist containing the usual wide range of interpretations. I’d love to draw your attention to Scottish traveller, singer and fruit-picker Jeannie Robertson’s incredibly slow, beautiful and emotionally charged recording from 1960.

Another beautiful prince in the royal family of folk, Andy Irvine, took a very different approach that probably captures more of Johnny’s swashbuckling nature when he sang “Johnny Of Brady's Lea” with Planxty in 1980:

Alasdair Roberts, Amble Skuse and David McGuinness. I love McGuinness’ piano in this one, especially how it ranges from quiet background hum to forceful driving torrent:

Here’s a video of brilliant singer Iona Fyfe guiding a folk club through a communal unaccompanied sing:

This song is also available on her excellent mini-album of unaccompanied traditional song entitled “Ballads Vol. 1”, which you can (and should) buy on Bandcamp here.

Also from Bandcamp, here’s a version including some excellent piping from pan-Celtic trio Ceólta:

Finally, there’s a great series of albums called “Old Songs and Bothy Ballads” that arise from the annual Fife Singing Weekends that take place in Scotland. Each year, they compile a CD of some of the weekend’s highlights. Here’s a clip of Peter Shepheard from the 2010 collection singing “Johnnie o Graidie”, with a little help from the audience:

O father, ye have seven (plus or minus two) sons

The number seven appears frequently in literature, religion, and indeed balladry. Why might this be? I hear no-one ask. Well, numerologists and spiritualists of most creeds have their theories, but science has its own suggestion: it’s the optimal maximum number of things humans can hold in their functional memory according to this 1956 research paper from prominent American psychologist George Armitage Miller. Its findings, as far as I’m aware, remain uncontested.

Here’s a (definitely non-exhaustive - feel free to provide your own favourite in the comments) list of ballads that include the number seven, in at least one of their versions:

• Barbara Allen (Roud 54)

• Billie Boy (Roud 326)

• Bold Sir Rylas (Roud 29)

• Brown Robin (Roud 62)

• Captain Ward and the Rainbow (Roud 224)

• Clerk Saunders (Roud 3855)

• Earl Crawford (Roud 3880)

• Fair Annie (Roud 42)

• Fair Margaret and Sweet William (Roud 253)

• Fair Mary of Wallington (Roud 59)

• Geordie (Roud 90)

• Hind Horn (Roud 28)

• Jock the Leg and the Merry Merchant (Roud 3856)

• Johnie Armstrong (Roud 76)

• Johnie o’ Breadislee (Roud 69)

• Lady Maisry (Roud 45)

• Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard (Roud 52)

• Lord Bateman (Roud 40)

• Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor (Roud 4)

• Queen Eleanor’s Confession (Roud 74)

• Richie Story (Roud 97)

• Robin Hood and the Pedlar (Roud 333)

• Rose the Red and White Lily (Roud 3335)

• Seven Old Ladies (Roud 10227)

• Sir Hugh (Roud 73)

• Sweet Trinity (Roud 122)

• Tam Lin (Roud 35)

• The Bailiff’s Daughter of Islington (Roud 483)

• The Beggar Man (Roud 212)

• The Bonnie House of Airlie (Roud 794)

• The Braes of Yarrow (Roud 13)

• The Craft Farmer (Roud 2640)

• The Cruel Mother (Roud 9)

• The Demon Lover (Roud 120)

• The Douglas Tragedy (Roud 23)

• The Dowie Dens of Yarrow (Roud 120)

• The Duke of Athole’s Nurse(Roud 3393)

• The False Knight on the Road (Roud 20)

• The Farmer’s Cursed Wife (Roud 160)

• The Gay Goshawk (Roud 61)

• The Great Silkie of Sule Skerry (Roud 197)

• The Heir of Linne (Roud 111)

• The Keach in the Creel (Roud 120)

• The Laird O Drum (Roud 2547)

• The Lowlands of Holland (Roud 92)

• The Maid and the Palmer (Roud 2335)

• The Maid Freed From the Gallows (Roud 144)

• The Raggle Taggle Gypsies (Roud 1)

• The Seven Drunken Nights (Roud 114)

• Thomas the Rhymer (Roud 219)

• Willie O’ Winsbury (Roud 64)

Imagery

During the late 19th and early 20th century “Ballad Book” boom, a couple of really great etchings were made for this story. A detail for one is given at the top of this post. Here’s what the full thing looks like:

Illustation in William Platt’s “Stories of the Scottish Border” (1910), illustration by Morris Meredith Williams

Someone has scanned the illustrations in this book and placed them all online here, if you want to see them all.

The song also appears in the luxuriously large format coffee table tome “Illustrated British Ballads”, a collection edited by author and journalist George Barnett Smith in 1881. There are some stunning illustrations in this, not least the forest scene for “Johnnie of Breadislee“:

Image from “Illustrated British Ballads” 1881, by Mancunian artist William Henry James Boot.

Some sources

Francis Child found thirteen versions of this ballad; it was clearly popular, not least with Child himself, who claimed it to be a “precious specimen of the unspoiled traditional ballad“. As usual, Child’s commentary can be read in full over at the Bluegrass Messengers website.

Walter Scott’s seminal 1802 “Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border” collection has a few words to say on this ballad. As usual, he does not hold back on the speculation, nor the historical or geographical colour.

The remains of Morton Castle are still to be found - a short video tour here:

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A couple of the early c19 versions collected in Bristol by John Fry were accredited to “some illiterate drummer”:

It’s arguable (and it’s an argument that many have made) that someone illiterate would actually be the ideal person to be collecting ballads, as they would be least likely to - as was very frequently the case with the more formally educated collectors - apply their own poetic license to what they found.

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In his mighty 800+ page 1956 tome “The Ballad Book”, editor MacEdward Leach makes a number of interesting points, including pouring cold water on Thomas Percy’s earlier insistence that the ballad must be ancient as it mentions wolves:

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In America, the ballad has turned up in a couple of places. A notable collection occurred in Virginia in the early 20th century by American ballad scholar John Jacob Niles. In his fascinating 1961 “Ballad Book”, he gives a compelling account of hearing the song in unexpected circumstances (TW: contains one phrase of racist language).

It might be hard to read in that image, but I decided it was worth transcribing - here it is below:

IT WAS AUGUST 1933 and darkness had settled on White Top Mountain, in Washington County, Va. A folk festival was in progress up on the mountain, and as I have said before, all the way up and all the way down the newly cut road, one encountered automobiles beset by various difficulties.

I had given a delightful little white-haired octogenarian a lift. His name was Pete Johnson, and he was the singer of "Lady Margot and Love Henry," indicated in this collection as No. 27. Pete Johnson left me at Konnaroch. Hardly had l gotten to the outskirts of the village before I ran over a small bundle of barbed wire and almost destroyed a rear tire.

As I was standing by surveying my bad luck. four men appeared out of the early night. They proved to be great people - strong, willing, and entertaining. They had been denied a chance to sing at the White Top festival, but they were still gay. Of course, a certain overconsumption of locally made corn distillate had helped to buoy their spirits.

They went at once to helping me change the damaged tire. After a bit, I discovered that two of them were brothers, Ed and Charlie Russell. Then there was the usual silent partner, who looked like he may have had been of indigenous heritage. The fourth man was Roscoe Pulsifer: he proved to be the singer. As soon as the car was ready to go, they told me that they wanted to get to Marion, Va., and as l was stopping at a hotel in that town, it all worked out quite nicely. While we were driving along, they discovered my interest in balladry, and by the time we had arrived at the hotel (about 35 miles away) we had decided to hold our own folk festival in the peace and comfort of a Marion hotel.

I do not remember how many ballads I sang, but I do know that the management of the hotel was growing weary of our using the lobby for a concert stage. The suggestion was made that we "take the show back up to White Top." It was then that Roscoe Pulsifer got around to the serious business of the evening. With the "help" of his three friends he sang what he called "Fair John and the Seven Foresters," which proved to be a thrilling variant of Child ballad No. 114, originally entitled "Johnie Cock."

After Pulsifer got well under way, Charlie, Russell went to singing, too, but his contribution was not much more than tiresome interference. The audience we had collected presented a problem. They were ever ready with inane suggestions and odd remarks, calculated to amuse and distract. None of this made my task any easier; my notes make difficult reading today. I finally took down the following 12 verses and checked them against two additional performances, one by Pulsifer and one by me. As l was putting up my dulcimers, Charlie Russell came to me and said: "Pardner, this old singer, this white-headed drunk-man, name of Roscoe Pulsifer, was once a teacher in a ladies' seminary over in the direction of Charlottesville. But drink and ladies ruined 'im. You see, in Charlottesville there was too much of both." Then Pulsifer spoke up. "Charlie Russell, you oughta enter a liars' contest. You'd win, hands down!" He turned to me and said, "I quit schoolteaching about thirty years ago, when I was thirty-five years of age, but my reasons are my own business, and they've got nothing to do with that snake-stamper Russell." We shook hands all around, and they went out into the night.

Draft pages and audio guide