Book of Old English Ballads, A

<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"></SPAN></p> <h2> Flodden Field </h2> <p>King Jamie hath made a vow,<br/> Keepe it well if he may:<br/> That he will be at lovely London<br/> Upon Saint James his day.<br/> <br/> Upon Saint James his day at noone,<br/> At faire London will I be,<br/> And all the lords in merrie Scotland,<br/> They shall dine there with me.<br/> <br/> "March out, march out, my merry men,<br/> Of hie or low degree;<br/> I'le weare the crowne in London towne,<br/> And that you soon shall be."<br/> <br/> Then bespake good Queene Margaret,<br/> The teares fell from her eye:<br/> "Leave off these warres, most noble King,<br/> Keepe your fidelitie.<br/> <br/> "The water runnes swift, and wondrous deepe,<br/> From bottome unto the brimme;<br/> My brother Henry hath men good enough;<br/> England is hard to winne."<br/> <br/> "Away" quoth he "with this silly foole!<br/> In prison fast let her lie:<br/> For she is come of the English bloud,<br/> And for these words she shall dye."<br/> <br/> With that bespake Lord Thomas Howard,<br/> The Queenes chamberlaine that day:<br/> "If that you put Queene Margaret to death,<br/> Scotland shall rue it alway."<br/> <br/> Then in a rage King Jamie did say,<br/> "Away with this foolish mome;<br/> He shall be hanged, and the other be burned,<br/> So soone as I come home."<br/> <br/> At Flodden Field the Scots came in,<br/> Which made our English men faine;<br/> At Bramstone Greene this battaile was seene,<br/> There was King Jamie slaine.<br/> <br/> His bodie never could be found,<br/> When he was over throwne,<br/> And he that wore faire Scotland's crowne<br/> That day could not be knowne.<br/> <br/> Then presently the Scot did flie,<br/> Their cannons they left behind;<br/> Their ensignes gay were won all away,<br/> Our souldiers did beate them blinde.<br/> <br/> To tell you plaine, twelve thousand were slaine,<br/> That to the fight did stand,<br/> And many prisoners tooke that day,<br/> The best in all Scotland.<br/> <br/> That day made many [a] fatherlesse child,<br/> And many a widow poore,<br/> And many a Scottish gay lady<br/> Sate weeping in her bower.<br/> <br/> Jack with a feather was lapt all in leather,<br/> His boastings were all in vaine;<br/> He had such a chance, with a new morrice-dance<br/> He never went home againe.<br/> <br/> &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;<br/> <br/> This was written to adapt the ballad to the seventeenth century.<br/></p> <p>Now heaven we laude that never more<br/> Such biding shall come to hand;<br/> Our King, by othe, is King of both<br/> England and faire Scotland.<br/></p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />