Of fifteen hundred Englishmen,
Went home but fifty-three:
The rest were slaine in Chevy-Chace,
Under the greene woode tree.
Next day did many widdowes come,
Their husbands to bewayle;
They washt their wounds in brinish teares,
But all wold not prevayle;
Their bodyes, bathed in purple gore,
They bore with them away;
They kist them dead a thousand times,
Ere they were clad in clay.
THE TIDINGS
The newes was brought to Eddenborrow,
Where Scotland's king did raigne,
That brave Erle Douglas suddenlye
Was with an arrow slaine:
'O heavy newes,' King James did say,
'Scotland may witnesse be,
I have not any captaine more
Of such account as he.'
Like tydings to King Henry came,
Within as short a space,
That Percy of Northumberland
Was slaine in Chevy-Chace:
'Now God be with him,' said our king,
'Sith it will no better be;
I trust I have, within my realme,
Five hundred as good as he:
Yet shall not Scots nor Scotland say,
But I will vengeance take:
I'll be revenged on them all,
For brave Erle Percy's sake.'
This vow full well the king performed
After, at Humbledowne;
In one day, fifty knights were slayne,
With lords of great renowne,
And of the rest, of small account,
Did many thousands dye.
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