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SONGS AND BALLADS
Simon had a sonne; with shott of a gunne—
Well Sir Andrew might itt ken— He shott itt in att a privye place,
And killed sixty more of Sir Andrews men.
Harry Hunt came in att the other syde, And att Sir Andrew hee shott then ;
He drove downe his fformast-tree,
And killed eighty more of Sir Andriwes men.
' I have done a good turne,' sayes Harry Hunt;
' Sir Andrew is not our kings ffreind ; He hoped to have undone me yester-night,
But I hope I have quitt him well in the end.'
' Ever alas !' sayd Sir Andrew Barton, ' What shold a man either thinke or say ?
Yonder fFalse theeffe is my strongest enemye, Who was my prisoner but yesterday.
' Come hither to me, thou Gourden good,
And be thou readye att my call, And I will give thee three hundred pound
If thou wilt lett my beames downe ffall.'
With that he swarved the maine-mast tree, Soe did he itt with might and maine;
Horseley, with a bearing arrow, Stroke the Gourden through the braine,
And he ffell into the haches againe,
And sore of this wound that he did bleed;
Then word went throug Sir Andrews men, That the Gourden he was dead.
' Come hither to me, lames Hambliton, Thou art my sisters sonne, I have no more ;
I will give [thee] six hundred pound If thou wilt lett my beames downe fall.'
With that hee swarved the maine-mast tree, Soe did hee itt with might and maine
Horseley, with another broad arrow, Strake the yeaman through the braine |
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