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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But they stirr'd neither top nor mast, But Sir Andrew they passed by.—
'What English are yonder,' said Sir Andrew, ' That can so little curtesye ?
' I have been admiral over the sea
[Methinketh] more then these yeeres three; There is never an English nor Portingall dog.
Can pass this way without leave of me.
'But now yonder pedlars, they are pass'd,
Which is no little grief to me: Fetch them backe,' sayes Sir Andrew Barton,
'They shall all hang at my maine-mast tree.'
With that the pinnace it shot off,
That my Lord Howard might it well ken; It stroke down my lord's fore-mast,
And kill'd fourteen of my lord his men.
' Come hither, Simon !' says my Lord Howard, ' Look that thy words be true thou said;
1'le hang thee at my maine-mast tree
If thou miss thy mark past three pence bread.'
Simon was old, but his hart it was bold ;
He tooke downe a piece, and laid it full low; Chaine yeards nine he put therein,
Besides other great shot less and moe.
stirr'd] moved, lowered.            can] ken, know.
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