And with Sir George and Sir James, Both Knights of good account; And good Sir Raphe Rebbye there was slaine, Whose prowesse did surmount.
For Witherington needs must I wayle As one in doleful dumpes, For when his leggs were smitten of, He fought upon his stumpes.
And with Erle Douglas there was slaine Sir Hugh Mountgomerye, And Sir Charles Morrell that from feelde One foote wold never flee;
Sir Roger Hever of Harcliffe tow,-- His sisters sonne was hee,-- Sir David Lamb so well esteemed But saved he cold not bee;
And the Lord Maxwell in like case With Douglas he did dye; Of twenty hundred Scottish speeres, Scarce fifty five did flye;
Of fifteen hundred Englishmen Went home but fifty three; The rest in Chevy-Chase were slaine, Under the greenwoode tree.
Next day did many widdowes come Their husbands to bewayle; They washt their wounds in brinish teares, But all wold not prevayle.
Theyr bodyes bathed in purple blood, They bore with them away, They kist them dead a thousand times Ere they were cladd in clay.
The newes was brought to Eddenborrow Where Scottland’s King did rayne, That brave Erle Douglas soddainlye Was with an arrow slaine.
“O heavy newes!” King James can say, “Scottland may wittenesse bee I have not any captaine more Of such account as hee!”
Like tydings to King Henery came Within as short a space, That Percy of Northumberland Was slaine in Chevy-Chase.
“Now God be with him!” said our King, “Sith it will noe better bee, I trust I have within my realme Five hundred as good as hee!
“Yett shall not Scotts nor Scottland say But I will vengeance take, And be revenged on them all For brave Erle Percyes sake.”
This vow the King did well performe After on Humble Downe; In one day fifty Knights were slayne, With Lords of great renowne,
And of the rest of small account, Did many hundreds dye: Thus endeth the hunting in Chevy-Chase Made by the Erle Percye.
God save our King, and blesse this land With plentye, joy, and peace; And grant hencforth that foule debate Twixt noble men may ceaze!
The moonbeam glints on tower and hill, It’s hey! for the bonny moonlight! “Go saddle my steed, I’ll ride betimes, The English Border to-night.”
“Take tent, good lad, the Warder’s men Are riding over the land.” “Tuts! six Scotts lads will keep two score Of such feckless loons at a stand!”