46. Our English archers bent their bows Shortly and anon; They shot over the Scottish host And scantly touched a man.
47. 'Hold down your hands,' said the Bishop of Durham, 'My archers good and true.' The second shoot that they shot, Full sore the Scots it rue.
48. The Bishop of Durham spoke on high That both parties might hear, 'Be of good cheer, my merrymen all, The Scots flien and changen their cheer.'
49. But as they saiden, so they diden, They fell on heapës high; Our Englishmen laid on with their bows As fast as they might dree.
50. The King of Scots in a study stood Amongst his company; An arrow struck him thorough the nose, And thorough his armoury.
51. The King went to a marsh-side And light beside his steed; He leaned him down on his sword-hilts To let his nose bleed.
52. There followed him a yeoman of merry England, His name was John of Copland; 'Yield thee, traitor!' says Copland then, 'Thy life lies in my hand.'
53. 'How should I yield me,' says the King, 'And thou art no gentleman?' 'No, by my troth,' says Copland there, 'I am but a poor yeoman.
54. 'What art thou better than I, sir King? Tell me, if that thou can! What art thou better than I, sir King, Now we be but man to man?'
55. The King smote angrily at Copland then, Angrily in that stound; And then Copland was a bold yeoman, And bore the King to the ground.
56. He set the King upon a palfrey, Himself upon a steed; He took him by the bridle-rein, Towards London he gan him lead.
57. And when to London that he came, The King from France was new come home, And there unto the King of Scots He said these words anon.
58. 'How like you my shepherds and my millers? My priests with shaven crowns?' 'By my faith, they are the sorest fighting men That ever I met on the ground.
59. 'There was never a yeoman in merry England But he was worth a Scottish knight.' 'Ay, by my troth,' said King Edward, and laugh, 'For you fought all against the right.'
60. But now the prince of merry England Worthily under his shield Hath taken the King of France, At Poictiers in the field.
61. The prince did present his father with that food, The lovely King of France, And forward of his journey he is gone. God send us all good chance!
62. 'You are welcome, brother!' said the King of Scots to the King of France, 'For I am come hither too soon; Christ leve that I had taken my way Unto the court of Rome!'