5. 'Se yow, my meri men all, And se yow what I see? Yonder I see an host of men, I muse who they bee.'
6. She thought he had ben her wed lord, As he com'd riding home; Then was it traitur Captaine Care The lord of Ester-towne.
7. They wer no soner at supper sett, Then after said the grace, Or Captaine Care and all his men Wer lighte aboute the place.
8. 'Gyve over thi howsse, thou lady gay, And I will make the a bande; To-nighte thou shall ly within my armes, To-morrowe thou shall ere my lande.'
9. Then bespacke the eldest sonne, That was both whitt and redde: 'O mother dere, geve over your howsse, Or elles we shalbe deade.'
10. 'I will not geve over my hous,' she saithe, 'Not for feare of my lyffe; It shalbe talked throughout the land, The slaughter of a wyffe.'
11. 'Fetch me my pestilett, And charge me my gonne, That I may shott at yonder bloddy butcher, The lord of Easter-towne.'
12. Styfly upon her wall she stode, And lett the pellettes flee; But then she myst the blody bucher, And she slew other three.
13. ['I will] not geve over my hous,' she saithe, 'Netheir for lord nor lowne; Nor yet for traitour Captain Care, The lord of Easter-towne.
14. 'I desire of Captine Care And all his bloddye band, That he would save my eldest sonne, The eare of all my lande.'
15. 'Lap him in a shete,' he sayth, 'And let him downe to me, And I shall take him in my armes, His waran shall I be.'
16. The captayne sayd unto him selfe: Wyth sped, before the rest, He cut his tonge out of his head, His hart out of his breast.
17. He lapt them in a handkerchef, And knet it of knotes three, And cast them over the castell-wall, At that gay ladye.
18. 'Fye upon the, Captayne Care, And all thy bloddy band! For thou hast slayne my eldest sonne, The ayre of all my land.'
19. Then bespake the yongest sonne, That sat on the nurse's knee, Sayth, 'Mother gay, geve over your house; It smoldereth me.'
20. 'I wold geve my gold,' she saith, 'And so I wolde my ffee, For a blaste of the westryn wind, To dryve the smoke from thee.
21. 'Fy upon the, John Hamleton, That ever I paid the hyre! For thou hast broken my castle-wall, And kyndled in the ffyre.'
22. The lady gate to her close parler, The fire fell aboute her head; She toke up her children thre, Seth, 'Babes, we are all dead.'