  IAs it befel in midsummer-time, When birds singe sweetlye on every tree, Our noble king, King Henry the Eighth, Over the river of Thames pass’d he. IIHe was no sooner over the river, Downe in a forrest to take the ayre, But eighty merchants of London citye Came kneeling before King Henry there. III‘O ye are welcome, rich merchÀnts, Good saylers, welcome unto me!’ They swore by the rood they were saylers good, But rich merchÀnts they co’ld not be. IV‘To France nor Flanders dare we not passe, Nor Bourdeaux voyage we dare not fare, All for a false robber that lyes on the seas, And robbs us of our merchants-ware.’ VKing Henry was stout, and he turned him about, And swore by the Lord that was mickle of might ‘I thought he’d not been in the world throughout That durst have wrought England such unright.’ VIBut ever they sighÈd, and said, alas! Unto King Harry this answer againe: ‘He is a proud Scott that will robb us all Were we twenty shipps and he but one.’ VIIThe King looket over his left shouldÈr, Amongst his lords and barrons so free: ‘Have I never a lord in all my realme Will fetch yond traitor unto me?’ VIII‘Yes, that dare I!’ says my lord Charles Howard, Neere to the King wheras he did stand, ‘If that Your Grace will give me leave, My self will perform what you command.’ IX‘Thou shalt have six hundred men,’ saith our King, ‘And chuse them out of my realme so free; [Moreover] mariners and ship boyes, To guide the great ship on the sea.’ X‘I’le goe speake with Sir Andrew,’ says my Lord Howard; ‘Upon the sea, if he be there; I will bring him and his ship to shore, Or before my prince I will ne’er come neere.’ XIThe first of all my Lord did call, A noble gunner he was one; This man was three score yeares and ten, And Peter Simon was his name. XII‘Peter,’ says he, ‘I must sayle to the sea, To seek out an enemy; God be my speed! Before all others I have chosen thee; Of a hundred gunners thou’st be my head.’ XIII‘My lord,’ says he, ‘if you’ve chosen me Of a hundred gunners to be the head, You may hang me at your maine-mast tree If I miss my mark past three pence bread XIVThe next of all my lord he did call, A noble bowman he was one; In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne, And William Horsley was his name. XV‘Horsley,’ says he, ‘I must sayle to the sea, To seek out an enemy; God be my speede! Before all others I have chosen thee; Of a hundred bowemen thou’st be my head.’ XVI‘My lord,’ says he, ‘if you’ve chosen me Of a hundred bowemen to be the head, Hang me at your main-mast tree If I miss my mark past twelve pence bread.’ XVIIWith pikes, and gunnes, and bowmen bold, This noble Howard is gone to the sea On the day before Midsummer-even, And out at Thames’ mouth saylÈd they. XVIIIThey had not saylÈd dayÈs three Upon their journey they took in hand, But there they met with a noble ship, And stoutely made it both stay and stand. XIX‘Thou must tell me thy name,’ says Charles my lord Howard, ‘Or who thou art, or from whence thou came, Yea, and where thy dwelling is, To whom and where thy ship does belong.’ XX‘My name,’ says he, ‘is Henery Hunt, With a pure hart and a penitent mind; I and my ship they doe belong Unto the New-castle that stands upon Tyne.’— XXI‘Now thou must tell me, Henery Hunt, As thou hast saylÈd by day and by night, Hast thou not heard of a stout robbÈr? Men calls him Sir Andrew Barton, Knight.’ XXIIBut ever he sighÈd, and said, ‘Alas! Full well, my lord, I know that wight; He has robb’d me of my merchants-ware, And I was his pris’ner but yesternight. XXIII‘As I was sayling upon the sea, And a Bourdeaux voyage as I did fare, He claspÈd me to his archÈborde And robb’d me of all my merchants-ware. XXIV‘And I am a man both poor and bare, Every man will have his own of me; And I am bound towards London to fare, To complain unto my prince Henrye.
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