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SONGS AND BALLADS
' Ffight on, my men,' sayes Sir Andrew Bartton, ' These English doggs they bite soe lowe ;
Fright on for Scottland and Saint Andrew Till you heare my whistle blowe !'
But when they cold not heare his whistle blow,
Sayes Harry Hunt, ' I'le lay my head You may bord yonder noble shipp, my lord,
For I know Sir Andrew hee is dead.'
With that they borded this noble shipp, Soe did they itt with might and maine ;
They ffound eighteen score Scotts alive, Besids the rest were maimed and slaine.
My lord Haward tooke a sword in his hand,
And smote of Sir Andrews head; The Scotts stood by did weepe and mourne,
But never a word durst speake or say.
He caused his body to be taken downe, And over the hatch-bord cast into the sea,
And about his middle thre hundred crownes : ' Whersoever thou lands, itt will bury thee.'
With his head they sayled into England againe, With right good will, and fforce and main,
And the day beffore Newyeeres even Into Thames mouth they came againe.
My lord Haward wrote to King Heneryes grace, With all the newes hee cold him bring :
' Such a Newyeeres gifft I have brought to your Grace As never did subject to any king.
' Ffor merchandyes and manhood,
The like is nott to be ffound ; The sight of these wold doe you good,
Ffor you have not the like in your English ground.'
But when hee heard tell that they were come, Full royally hee welcomed them home;
Sir Andrewes shipp was the kings Newyeeres guifft; A braver shipp you never saw none.