8
For Witherington needs muſt I wail,
as one of doleful dumps;
For when his legs were ſmitten off,
he fought upon his ſtumps,
And with earl Douglas there was ſlain,
Sir Hugh Montgomery,
Sir Charles Currel that from the field
one foot would never flee.
Sir Charles Currel of Ratcliff too,
his ſiſter's ſon was he,
Sir David Lamb tho ſo eſteem'd,
they ſaved could not be.
Of fifteen hundred Scottiſh Peers,
went home but fifty-three;
The reſt were ſlain in Chevy-Chace,
under the greenwood tree.
Next day did many widows come,
their husbands to bewail,
They waſh'd their wounds in briny tears
yet all would not prevail
Their bodies bath'd in purple gore,
with them they bore away,
And kiſs'd them dead a thouiand times,
when they were cold as clay.
God ſave the King, and bleſs his land,
in plenty joy and peace.
And grant henceforth that foul debates
'twixt noblemen may ceaſe.
FINIS.
