. . . . . . . . . . ‘Ffor this same night att [Bucklesfeildberry] Litle Musgreue is in bed with thy wife.’
- ‘If it be trew, thou litle foote-page, This tale thou hast told to mee, Then all my lands in Buckle[s]feildberry I’le freely giue to thee.
- ‘But if this be a lye, thou little foot-page, This tale thou hast told to mee, Then on the highest tree in Bucklesfeildberry All hanged that thou shalt bee.’
- Saies, Vpp and rise, my merrymen all, And saddle me my good steede, For I must ride to Bucklesfeildberry; God wott I had neuer more need!
- But some they whistled, and some th’z sunge, And some they thus cold say, When euer as Lord Barnetts horne blowes, ‘Away, Musgreue, away!’
- ‘Mie thinkes I heare the throstlecocke, Me thinkes I heare the iay, Me thinkes I heare Lord Barnetts horne, Away, Musgreue, away!’
- ‘But lie still, lie still, Litle Musgreue, And huddle me from the cold, For it is but some sheaperds boy, Is whistling sheepe ore the mold.
- ‘Is not thy hauke vpon a pearch, Thy horsse eating corne and hay? And thou, a gay lady in thine armes, And yett thou wold goe away!’
- By this time Lord Barnett was come to the dore, And light vpon a stone, And he pulled out three silver kayes, And opened the dores euery one.
- And first he puld the couering downe, And then puld downe the sheete; Saies, How now? How now, Litle Musgreue? Dost find my gay lady sweet?
- ‘I find her sweete,’ saies Litle Musgreue,
‘The more is my greefe and paine;’
. . . . . .
. . . . .
- . . . . . . . . . ‘Soe haue I done the fairest lady That euer wore womans weede.
- ‘Soe haue I done a heathen child, Which ffull sore greiueth mee, For which Ile repent all the dayes of my life, And god be with them all three!’