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His kindness was to me so great,
the like was never known,
His kindness I shall still repeat,
And so shall my wife Joan.
I'll laugh when I sit in my stall,
and merrily will sing,
That I with my poor last and awl,
am fellow with the king.
But it is more, I must confess
than I at first did know:
But Harry Tudor, ne'ertheless,
resolves it shall be so.
And now farewell unto Whitehall
I homeward must retire,
To sing and whistle in my stall,
my Joan will me desire.
I do but think how she will laugh,
when she hears of this thing,
That he that drank her nut brown ale,
was England's royal king.
