The Oxford Book of Ballads - online book

A Selection Of The Best English Lyric Ballads Chosen & Edited by Arthur Quiller-Couch

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With that he swarm'd the main-mast tree,
Soe did he it with might and main: Horsley, with another broad arrow,
Strake the yeaman thoro' the brain.
That he fell downe to the hatches ajiaine;
Sore of his wound that hee did bleed ; Covetousness gets no game,
It is very true, as the Welshman said.
But when he saw his nephew slaine, Lord! in his heart he was not well i
' Go fetch me downe my armour of proof, For I will to the topcastle mysell.
' Go fetch me downe my armour of proof, For it is gilded with gold so cleere;
God be with my brother, John of Barton! Amongst the Portingalls he did it weare.'
But when he had his armour of proof,
And on his body he had it on, Every man that looked at him
Said, Gun nor arrow he need fear none.
' Come hither, Horsley! y says my Lord Howard, ' And look your shaft that it goe right;
Shoot a good shoote in the time of need,
And for thy shooting thou'st be made knight.'
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