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And she bas gane and made their bed,

She's made it saft and fine ; And she's happit them wi' her gay mantil,

Because they were her ain.

• Lie still, lie still a little wee while,

Lie still but if we may; Gin my mother miss us when she wakes,

She'll gae mad ere it be day.'

But the young cock crew in merry Linkum,

And the wild fowl chirped for day; And the aulder to the younger said,

• Brother, we maun away.

O its they've taen up their moiher's man

til, And they've hung it on a pin; O lang may ye hing, my mother's man

til,
Ere ye bap us again.'

• The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,

The channerin worm doth chide; Gin we be missed out o' our place,

A sair pain we maun bide.'

SIR ANDREW BARTON.

This fine old ballad, giving a most spirited and graphic description of a sea-fight, is taken from Percy's “Reliques."

." The incident on which it is founded, and the names themselves are historical. The story may be found in the English Chronicles for the year 1511, but the ballad is probably a century more modern.

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seas, And Sir Andrew Barton is his name.'

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The first man, that Lord Howard chose,

Was the ablest gunner in all the realm, Thoughe he was threescore yeeres and ten;

Good Peter Simon was his name. Peter,' sais hee, I must to the sea,

To bring home a traytor live or dead: Before all others I have chosen thee;

Of a hundred gunners to be the head.'

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• If you, my lord, have chosen mee

But over-well I knowe that wight, Of a hundred gunners to be the head, I was his prisoner yesterday.' Then hang me on your maine-mast tree,

If I misse my mark one shilling bread.' · As I was sayling upon the sea,
My lord then chose a boweman rare,

A Burdeaux voyage for to fare ;
Whose active hands bad gained fame ; To his hachborde he clasped me,
In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne, And robd me of all my merchant ware:
And William Horseley was his name. And mickle debts, God wot, I owe,

And every man will have his owne;
Horseley,' sayd he, 'I must with speede And I am nowe to London bounde,
Go seeke a traytor on the sea ;

Of our gracious king to beg a boone.'
And now of a hundred bowemen brave,
To be the head I have chosen thee.'

· That shall not need,' Lord Howard sais; If you,' quoth hee, ‘have chosen mee

· Lett me but once that robber see, Of a hundred bowemen to be the head;

For every penny tane thee froe
On
your
main-mást Ile hanged bee,

It shall be doubled shillings three.'
If I miss twelvescore one penny bread.' • Nowe God forefend,' the merchant said,

That you shold seek soe far amisse!
With pikes and gunnes, and bowemen

God keepe ye out of that traitor's hands!
bold,

Full litle ye wott what a man hee is.
This noble Howard is gone to the sea ;
With a valyant heart and a pleasant cheare,
Out at Thames mouth sayled he.

He is brasse within, and steele without,
And days he scant had sayled three,

With beames on his topcastle stronge ; Upon the voyage,' he tooke in hand,

And eighteen pieces of ordinance But there he mett with a noble shipp,

He carries on each side along : And stoutely made itt stay and stand.

And he hath a pinnace deerlye dight,

St. Andrew's crosse that is his guide;

His pinnace beareth ninescore men, Thou must tell me,' Lord Howard said,

And fifteen canons on each side. • Now who thou art, and what's thy

name; And shewe me where thy dwelling is : • Were ye twentye shippes, and he but one; And whither bound, and whence thou I sweare by kirke, and bower, and hall; came.'

He wold overcome them everye one, My name is Henry Hunt,' quoth hee,

If once his beames they doe downe fall." With a heavye heart, and a carefull • This is cold comfort,' sais my lord, mind;

To welcome a stranger thus to the
l'and my shipp doe both belong
To the Newcastle that stands upon

Yet Ile bring him and his shipp to shore,
Tyne.

Or to Scottland hee shall carrye mee.'

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sea :

* Hast thou not heard, nowe, Henry Hunt, As thou hast sayled by daye and by

night, Of a Scottish rover on the seas; Men call him Sir Andrew Barton,

knight ?' Then ever he sighed, and sayd, · Alas!

With a grieved mind, and well away!

• Then a nobler gunner you must have,

And he must aim well with his ee,
And sinke his pinnace into the sea,

Or else hee never orecome will bee;
And if you chance his shipp to borde,

This counsel I must give withall,
Let no man to his topcastle goe

To strive to let his beams downe fall.)

6

Simon was old, but his heart itt was bold,

His ordinance he laid right lowe; He put in chaine full nine yardes long,

With other great shott lesse, and moe; And he lette goe his great gunnes shott:

Soe well he setiled itt with his ee, The first sight that Sir Andrew sawe,

He see his pinnace sunke in the sea.

· And seven pieces of ordinance,

I pray your honour lend to mee, On each side of my shipp along,

And I will lead you on the sea. A glasse Ile selt, that may be seene,

Whether you sayle by day or night; And io-morrowe, I sweare, by nine of the

clocke, You shall meet with Sir Andrew Bar

ton, knight.' The merchant sett my lorde a glasse

Soe well apparent in his sight, And on the morrowe, by nine of the clocke, He shewed him Sir Andrew Barton

knight. His hacheborde it was 'gilt with gold,

Soe deerlye dight it dazzled the ee : • Nowe by my faith,' Lord Howard sais,

• This is a gallant sight to see.

And when he saw his pinnace sunke, Lord, how his heart with rage did

swell! • Nowe cutt my ropes, itt is time to be gon

Ile fetch yond pedlars backe mysell.' When my lord sawe Sir Andrew Icose,

Within his heart hee was full faine: • Nowe spread your ancyents, strike up

drummes, Sound all your trumpetts out amaine.'

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Then Henry Hunt with rigour hott

Came bravely on the other side, Soone he drove duwn his fore-mast tree,

And killed fourscore men beside. • Nowe, out alas!' Sir Andrew cryed,

• What may a man now thinke, or say? Yonder merchant theefe, that pierceih mee,

He was my prisoner yesterday.'

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I have beene admirall over the sea ; And never an English nor Portingall

Without my leave can passe this way.' Then called he forıh his stout pinnace;

· Fetch back yond pedlars nowe to mee; I sweare by the masse, yon English churles

Shall all hang at my maine-mast tree.' With that the pinnace itt shott off,

Full well Lord Howard might it ken; For itt stroke down my lord's fore mast,

And killed fourteen of his men. • Come hither, Simon,' sayes my lord, Looke that thy word be true, thou

said ; For at my maine-mast thou sha'l hang, If thou misse thy marke one shilling

bread.'

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Come hither to me, thou Gordon good,'

That aye wast readye att my call; I will give thee three hundred markes,

If thou wilt let my beames downe fall.' Lord Howard hee then calld in haste,

· Horseley, see thou be true in stead; For thou shalt at the maine-mast hang, If thou misse twelvescore one penny

bread.'

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crownes:

Goe fetch me forth my armour of proofe; Lord Howard tooke a sword in hand, That gilded is with gold soe cleare :

And off he smote Sir Andrew's head, God be with my brother John of Barton!

· I must have left England many a daye, Against the Portingalls hee it ware; If thou wert alive as thou art dead.' And when he had on his armour of

He caused his body to be cast proofe,

Over the hatchbord into the sea, He was a gallant sight to see:

And about his middle three hundred Ah! nere didst thou meet with living wight,

Wherever thou land this will bury My deere brother, could cope with

thee.' thee.'

Thus from the warres Lord Howard came • Come hither, Horseley,' sayes my lord, And backe he sayled ore the maine, • And looke your shaft that itt goe With mickle joy and triumphing right,

Into Thames mouth he came againe. Shoot a good shoote in time of need, Lord Howard then a letter wrote,

And for it thou shalt be made a knight.' And sealed it with seale and ring;

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