4
The king called up his merry men all,
by one by two and by three,
Go fetch me Lord Thomas of Winsberry,
for to-morrow he shall die
They sought him up they sought him down,
as fast as fast could be,
There they found Lord Thomas of Winsberry,
sitting under an orange tree
Get up get up Lord Thomas they said,
get up and bound your way,
For the king has sworn by his honoured crown,
that to morrow is thy dying day,
O what have I robb'd? or what have I stolen?
or what have I killed or slain?
That I should be afraid to speak to your king,
for I have done him no wrong.
Lord Thomas came tripping up the stair,
His cloathing was of the silk,
His fine yellow hair hung dangling down,
his skin was white as the milk.
And when he came before the king,
he kneeled down on his knee,
Says what is your will with me my liege?
what is your will with me?
I think no wonder Lord Thomas says,
