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was in labour full six weeks and more, And the women were weary, and fain would give oer: 'O women, O women, as women ye be, Rip open my two sides, and save my baby!' 'O royal Queen Jane, that thing may not be; We'll send for King Henry to come unto thee.' King Henry came to her, and sate on her bed: 'What ails my dear lady, her eyes look so red?' 'O royal King Henry, do one thing for me: Rip open my two sides, and save my baby!' 'O royal Queen Jane, that thing will not do; If I lose your fair body, I'll lose your baby too.' She wept and she waild, and she wrung her hands sore; O the flour of England must flurish no more! She wept and she waild till she fell in a swoond, They opend her two sides, and the baby was found. The baby was christened with joy and much mirth, Whilst poor Queen Jane's body lay cold under earth: There was ringing and singing and mourning all day, The princess Eliz[abeth] went weeping away. The trumpets in mourning so sadly did sound, And the pikes and the muskets did trail on the ground. . . . . . . . . = = , Queen Jeanie, traveld six weeks and more, Till women and midwives had quite gien her oer: 'O if ye were women as women should be, Ye would send for a doctor, a doctor to me.' The doctor was called for and set by her bedside: 'What aileth thee, my ladie, thine eyes seem so red?' 'O doctor, O doctor, will ye do this for me, To rip up my two sides, and save my babie?' 'Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that's the thing I'll neer do, To rip up your two sides to save your babie:' Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, traveld six weeks and more, Till midwives and doctors had quite gien her oer. 'O if ye were doctors as doctors should be, Ye would send for King Henry, King Henry to me:' King Henry was called for, and sat by her bedside, 'What aileth thee, Jeanie? what aileth my bride?' 'King Henry, King Henry, will ye do this for me, To rip up my two sides, and save my babie?' 'Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that's what I'll never do, To rip up your two sides to save your babie.' But with sighing and sobbing she's fallen in a swoon, Her side it was ript up, and her babie was found; At this bonie babie's christning there was meikle joy and mirth, But bonnie Queen Jeanie lies cold in the earth. Six and six coaches, and six and six more, And royal King Henry went mourning before; O two and two gentlemen carried her away, But royal King Henry went weeping away. O black were their stockings, and black were their bands, And black were the weapons they held in their hands; O black were their mufflers, and black were their shoes, And black were the cheverons they drew on their luves. They mourned in the kitchen, and they mournd in the ha, But royal King Henry mournd langest of a': Farewell to fair England, farewell for evermore! For the fair flower of England will never shine more. = = has traveld for three days and more, Till the ladies were weary, and quite gave her oer: 'O ladies, O ladies, do this thing for me, To send for King Henry, to come and see me.' King Henry was sent for, and sat by her bedside: 'Why weep you, Queen Jeany? your eyes are so red.' 'O Henry, O Henry, do this one thing for me, Let my side straight be opend, and save my babie!' 'O Jeany, O Jeany, this never will do, It will leese thy sweet life, and thy young babie too.' She wept and she wailed, till she fell in a swoon: Her side it was opened, the babie was found. Prince Edward was christened with joy and with mirth, But the flower of fair England lies cold in the earth. O black was King Henry, and black were his men, And black was the steed that King Henry rode on. And black were the ladies, and black were their fans, And black were the gloves that they wore on their hands, And black were the ribbands they wore on their heads, And black were the pages, and black were the maids. * * * * The trumpets they sounded, the cannons did roar, But the flower of fair England shall flourish no more. . . . . . . . . = = was in travail for six weeks or more, Till the women grew tired and fain would give oer: 'O women, O women, good wives if ye be, Go send for King Henrie, and bring him to me!' King Henrie was sent for, he came with all speed, In a gownd of green velvet from heel to the head: 'King Henrie, King Henrie, if kind Henrie you be, Send for a surgeon, and bring him to me!' The surgeon was sent for, he came with all speed, In a gownd of black velvet from heel to the head; He gave her rich caudle, but the death-sleep slept she, Then her right side was opened, and the babe was set free. The babe it was christened, and put out and nursed, While the royal Queen Jane she lay cold in the dust. . . . . . . . .