44. With that he let his gunshot go; So well he settled it with his eye, The first sight that Sir Andrew saw, He saw his pinnace sunk in the sea.
45. When he saw his pinnace sunk, Lord! in his heart he was not well. ‘Cut my ropes, it is time to be gone; I’ll go fetch yond pedlars back myself!’
46. When my lord Howard saw Sir Andrew loose, Lord! in his heart that he was fain. ‘Strike on your drums, spread out your ancients; Sound out your trumpets, sound out amain!’
47. ‘Fight on, my men,’ says Sir Andrew Barton, ‘Weet, howsoever this gear will sway, It is my lord Admiral of England Is come to seek me on the sea.’
48. Simon had a son; with shot of a gun, Well Sir Andrew might it ken, He shot it at a privy place, And killed sixty more of Sir Andrew’s men.
49. Harry Hunt came in at the other side, And at Sir Andrew he shot then; He drove down his foremast tree, And killed eighty more of Sir Andrew’s men.
50. ‘I have done a good turn,’ says Harry Hunt, ‘Sir Andrew is not our king’s friend; He hoped to have undone me yesternight, But I hope I have quit him well in the end.’
51. ‘Ever alas!’ said Sir Andrew Barton, ‘What should a man either think or say? Yonder false thief is my strongest enemy, Who was my prisoner but yesterday.
52. ‘Come hither to me, thou Gordon good, And be thou ready at my call, And I will give thee three hundred pound If thou wilt let my beams down fall.’
53. With that he swarved the mainmast tree, So did he it with might and main; Horsley, with a bearing arrow, Strake the Gordon through the brain.
54. And he fell into the hatches again, And sore of this wound that he did bleed; Then word went through Sir Andrew’s men That the Gordon he was dead.
55. ‘Come hither to me, James Hamilton, Thou art my sister’s son, I have no more; I will give thee six hundred pound If thou will let my beams down fall.’
56. With that he swarved the mainmast tree, So did he it with might and main; Horsley, with another broad arrow, Strake the yeoman through the brain.
57. That he fell down to the hatches again; Sore of his wound that he did bleed. Covetousness gets no gain, It is very true as the Welshman said.
58. But when he saw his sister’s son slain, Lord! in his heart he was not well. ‘Go fetch me down my armour of proof, For I will to the top-castle myself.
