FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[120]dee = do.[121]craig = rock.[122]Kemp = champion, knight.[123]borrow = ransom.[124]siccan = such.[125]biggit = built.[126]gar’d = made.[127]stythe = place, station.[128]louted = bowed.[129]gid = went.[130]into = in.[131]won = dwell.

[120]dee = do.

[121]craig = rock.

[122]Kemp = champion, knight.

[123]borrow = ransom.

[124]siccan = such.

[125]biggit = built.

[126]gar’d = made.

[127]stythe = place, station.

[128]louted = bowed.

[129]gid = went.

[130]into = in.

[131]won = dwell.

I‘I was but seven year auldWhen my mither she did dee;My father married the ae warst womanThe warld did ever see.II‘For she has made me the laily[132]worm,That lies at the fit o’ the tree,An’ my sister Masery she’s madeThe machrel of the sea.III‘An’ every Saturday at noonThe machrel comes to me,An’ she takes my laily headAn’ lays it on her knee,She kaims it wi’ a siller kaim,An’ washes ’t in the sea.IV‘Seven knights hae I slain,Sin I lay at the fit of the tree,An’ ye war na my ain father,The eighth ane ye should be.’—V‘Sing on your song, ye laily worm,That ye did sing to me.’—‘I never sung that song but whatI would sing it to thee.VI‘I was but seven year auld,When my mither she did dee;My father married the ae warst womanThe warld did ever see.VII‘For she changed me to the laily worm,That lies at the fit o’ the tree,And my sister MaseryTo the machrel of the sea.VIII‘And every Saturday at noonThe machrel comes to me,An’ she takes my laily headAn’ lays it on her knee,An’ kames it wi’ a siller kame,An’ washes it i’ the sea.IX‘Seven knights hae I slainSin I lay at the fit o’ the tree;An’ ye war na my ain father,The eighth ane ye should be.’XHe sent for his lady,As fast as send could he:‘Whar is my son that ye sent frae me,And my daughter, Lady Masery?’—XI‘Your son is at our king’s court,Serving for meat an’ fee,An’ your daughter’s at our queen’s court,The queen’s maiden to be.’—XII‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye ill woman,Sae loud as I hear ye lee;My son’s the laily worm,That lies at the fit o’ the tree,And my daughter, Lady Masery,Is the machrel of the sea!’XIIIShe has tane a siller wan’,An’ gi’en him strokès three,And he’s started up the bravest knightThat ever your eyes did see.XIVShe has ta’en a small horn,An’ loud an’ shrill blew she,An’ a’ the fish came her untillBut the machrel of the sea:‘Ye shapeit me ance an unseemly shape,An’ ye’s never mare shape me.’XVHe has sent to the woodFor whins and for hawthorn,An’ he has ta’en that gay lady,An’ there he did her burn.

‘I was but seven year auldWhen my mither she did dee;My father married the ae warst womanThe warld did ever see.

‘For she has made me the laily[132]worm,That lies at the fit o’ the tree,An’ my sister Masery she’s madeThe machrel of the sea.

‘An’ every Saturday at noonThe machrel comes to me,An’ she takes my laily headAn’ lays it on her knee,She kaims it wi’ a siller kaim,An’ washes ’t in the sea.

‘Seven knights hae I slain,Sin I lay at the fit of the tree,An’ ye war na my ain father,The eighth ane ye should be.’—

‘Sing on your song, ye laily worm,That ye did sing to me.’—‘I never sung that song but whatI would sing it to thee.

‘I was but seven year auld,When my mither she did dee;My father married the ae warst womanThe warld did ever see.

‘For she changed me to the laily worm,That lies at the fit o’ the tree,And my sister MaseryTo the machrel of the sea.

‘And every Saturday at noonThe machrel comes to me,An’ she takes my laily headAn’ lays it on her knee,An’ kames it wi’ a siller kame,An’ washes it i’ the sea.

‘Seven knights hae I slainSin I lay at the fit o’ the tree;An’ ye war na my ain father,The eighth ane ye should be.’

He sent for his lady,As fast as send could he:‘Whar is my son that ye sent frae me,And my daughter, Lady Masery?’—

‘Your son is at our king’s court,Serving for meat an’ fee,An’ your daughter’s at our queen’s court,The queen’s maiden to be.’—

‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye ill woman,Sae loud as I hear ye lee;My son’s the laily worm,That lies at the fit o’ the tree,And my daughter, Lady Masery,Is the machrel of the sea!’

She has tane a siller wan’,An’ gi’en him strokès three,And he’s started up the bravest knightThat ever your eyes did see.

She has ta’en a small horn,An’ loud an’ shrill blew she,An’ a’ the fish came her untillBut the machrel of the sea:‘Ye shapeit me ance an unseemly shape,An’ ye’s never mare shape me.’

He has sent to the woodFor whins and for hawthorn,An’ he has ta’en that gay lady,An’ there he did her burn.

FOOTNOTES:[132]laily = loathly.

[132]laily = loathly.

IDer lived a king inta da aste[133],Scowan ürla grün[134]Der lived a lady in da wast.Whar giorten han grün oarlac.[135]IIDis king he has a huntin gaen,He’s left his Lady Isabel alane.III‘Oh I wis ye’d never gaen away,For at your hame is döl an wae.IV‘For da king o Ferrie we his daert,Has pierced your lady to da hert.’VAnd aifter dem da king has gaen,But when he cam it was a grey stane.VIDan he took oot his pipes ta play,Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.VIIAnd first he played da notes o noy[136],An dan he played da notes o joy.VIIIAn dan he played da göd gabber reel[137],Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.IX‘Noo come ye in inta wir[138]ha’,An come ye in among wis[139]a’.’XNow he’s gaen in inta der ha’,An he’s gaen in among dem a’.XIDan he took out his pipes to play,Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.XIIAn first he played da notes o noy,An dan he played da notes o joy.XIIIAn dan he played da göd gabber reel,Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.XIV‘Noo tell to us what ye will hae:What sall we gie you for your play?’—XV‘What I will hae I will you tell,An dat’s me Lady Isabel.’—XVI‘Yees tak your lady, an yees gaeng hame,An yees be king ower a’ your ain.’XVIIHe’s taen his lady, an he’s gaen hame,An noo he’s king ower a’ his ain.

Der lived a king inta da aste[133],Scowan ürla grün[134]Der lived a lady in da wast.Whar giorten han grün oarlac.[135]

Dis king he has a huntin gaen,He’s left his Lady Isabel alane.

‘Oh I wis ye’d never gaen away,For at your hame is döl an wae.

‘For da king o Ferrie we his daert,Has pierced your lady to da hert.’

And aifter dem da king has gaen,But when he cam it was a grey stane.

Dan he took oot his pipes ta play,Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.

And first he played da notes o noy[136],An dan he played da notes o joy.

An dan he played da göd gabber reel[137],Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.

‘Noo come ye in inta wir[138]ha’,An come ye in among wis[139]a’.’

Now he’s gaen in inta der ha’,An he’s gaen in among dem a’.

Dan he took out his pipes to play,Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.

An first he played da notes o noy,An dan he played da notes o joy.

An dan he played da göd gabber reel,Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.

‘Noo tell to us what ye will hae:What sall we gie you for your play?’—

‘What I will hae I will you tell,An dat’s me Lady Isabel.’—

‘Yees tak your lady, an yees gaeng hame,An yees be king ower a’ your ain.’

He’s taen his lady, an he’s gaen hame,An noo he’s king ower a’ his ain.

FOOTNOTES:[133]aste = east.[134]Scowan&c. = Early green’s the wood.[135]giorten&c. = Where the hart goes yearly.[136]noy = grief.[137]göd gabber reel = the rollicking dance-tune.[138]wir = our.[139]wis = us.

[133]aste = east.

[134]Scowan&c. = Early green’s the wood.

[135]giorten&c. = Where the hart goes yearly.

[136]noy = grief.

[137]göd gabber reel = the rollicking dance-tune.

[138]wir = our.

[139]wis = us.

ILet never a man a wooing wendThat lacketh thingis three;A routh[140]o’ gold, an open heartAnd fu’ o’ courtesye.IIAs this I speak of King Henry,For he lay burd-alone[141];An’ he’s doen him to a jelly[142]hunt’s ha’Was seven mile frae a town.IIIHe’s chased the deer down him before,An’ the roe down by the den,Till the fattest buck in a’ the flockKing Henry he has slain.IVO he has doen him to his ha’To make him bierly[143]cheer;An’ in it came a griesly ghostSteed stappin’ i’ the fleer[144].VHer head hat[145]the roof-tree o’ the house,Her middle ye weel mot[146]span;He’s thrown to her his gay mantle,Says, ‘Lady, hap[147]your lingcan[148].’VIHer teeth were a’ like teather stakes[149],Her nose like club or mell[150];An’ I ken naething she ’pear’d to beBut the fiend that wons[151]in hell.VII‘Some meat, some meat, ye King Henry,Some meat ye gie to me!’—‘An’ what meat’s in this house, ladye,That ye’re not welcome tae?’—‘O ye’se gae[152]kill your berry-brown steed,And serve him up to me.’VIIIO whan he slew his berry-brown steed,Wow but his heart was sair!She ate him a’ up, skin an’ bane,Left naething but hide an’ hair.IX‘Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,Mair meat ye gie to me!’—‘An’ what meat’s in this house, ladye,That ye’re not welcome tae?’—‘O do ye slay your good grey-houndsAn’ bring them a’ to me.’XO whan he slew his good grey-hounds,Wow but his heart was sair!She ate them a’ up, skin an’ bane,Left naething but hide an’ hair.XI‘Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,Mair meat ye gie to me!’—‘An’ what meat’s in this house, ladye,That ye’re not welcome tae?’—‘O do ye kill your gay goss-hawksAn’ bring them a’ to me.’XIIO whan he fell’d his gay goss-hawks,Wow but his heart was sair!She’s ate them a’ up, skin an’ bane,Left naethin’ but feathers bare.XIII‘Some drink, some drink, now, King Henry,Some drink ye bring to me!’—‘O what drink’s in this house, ladye,That ye’re not welcome tae?’—‘O ye sew up your horse’s hide,An’ bring in drink to me.’XIVO he’s sew’d up the bluidy hide,A puncheon o’ wine put in;She’s drunk it a’ up at a waught[153],Left na ae drap ahin’[154].XV‘A bed, a bed, now King Henry,A bed ye’se mak’ to me!’—‘An’ what’s the bed in this house, ladye,That ye’re not welcome tae?’—‘O ye maun pu’ the heather green,An’ mak’ a bed to me.’XVISyne pu’d he has the heather green,An’ made to her a bed,An’ up has he ta’en his gay mantle,An’ o’er it he has spread.XVII‘Tak’ off your claiths now, King Henry,An’ lie down by my side!’—‘O God forbid,’ says King Henry,‘That ever the like betide;That ever a fiend that wons in hellShou’d streak[155]down by my side!’XVIIIBut whan day was come, and night was gane,An’ the sun shone thro’ the ha’,The fairest ladye that ever was seen[Cam’ to his armès twa].XIX‘O weel is me!’ says King Henry,‘How lang’ll this last wi’ me?’Then out an’ spake that fair ladye,‘Even till the day you dee.XX‘For I’ve met wi’ many a gentle knightThat’s gien me sic a fill;But never before wi’ a courteous knightThat ga’e me a’ my will.’

Let never a man a wooing wendThat lacketh thingis three;A routh[140]o’ gold, an open heartAnd fu’ o’ courtesye.

As this I speak of King Henry,For he lay burd-alone[141];An’ he’s doen him to a jelly[142]hunt’s ha’Was seven mile frae a town.

He’s chased the deer down him before,An’ the roe down by the den,Till the fattest buck in a’ the flockKing Henry he has slain.

O he has doen him to his ha’To make him bierly[143]cheer;An’ in it came a griesly ghostSteed stappin’ i’ the fleer[144].

Her head hat[145]the roof-tree o’ the house,Her middle ye weel mot[146]span;He’s thrown to her his gay mantle,Says, ‘Lady, hap[147]your lingcan[148].’

Her teeth were a’ like teather stakes[149],Her nose like club or mell[150];An’ I ken naething she ’pear’d to beBut the fiend that wons[151]in hell.

‘Some meat, some meat, ye King Henry,Some meat ye gie to me!’—‘An’ what meat’s in this house, ladye,That ye’re not welcome tae?’—‘O ye’se gae[152]kill your berry-brown steed,And serve him up to me.’

O whan he slew his berry-brown steed,Wow but his heart was sair!She ate him a’ up, skin an’ bane,Left naething but hide an’ hair.

‘Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,Mair meat ye gie to me!’—‘An’ what meat’s in this house, ladye,That ye’re not welcome tae?’—‘O do ye slay your good grey-houndsAn’ bring them a’ to me.’

O whan he slew his good grey-hounds,Wow but his heart was sair!She ate them a’ up, skin an’ bane,Left naething but hide an’ hair.

‘Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,Mair meat ye gie to me!’—‘An’ what meat’s in this house, ladye,That ye’re not welcome tae?’—‘O do ye kill your gay goss-hawksAn’ bring them a’ to me.’

O whan he fell’d his gay goss-hawks,Wow but his heart was sair!She’s ate them a’ up, skin an’ bane,Left naethin’ but feathers bare.

‘Some drink, some drink, now, King Henry,Some drink ye bring to me!’—‘O what drink’s in this house, ladye,That ye’re not welcome tae?’—‘O ye sew up your horse’s hide,An’ bring in drink to me.’

O he’s sew’d up the bluidy hide,A puncheon o’ wine put in;She’s drunk it a’ up at a waught[153],Left na ae drap ahin’[154].

‘A bed, a bed, now King Henry,A bed ye’se mak’ to me!’—‘An’ what’s the bed in this house, ladye,That ye’re not welcome tae?’—‘O ye maun pu’ the heather green,An’ mak’ a bed to me.’

Syne pu’d he has the heather green,An’ made to her a bed,An’ up has he ta’en his gay mantle,An’ o’er it he has spread.

‘Tak’ off your claiths now, King Henry,An’ lie down by my side!’—‘O God forbid,’ says King Henry,‘That ever the like betide;That ever a fiend that wons in hellShou’d streak[155]down by my side!’

But whan day was come, and night was gane,An’ the sun shone thro’ the ha’,The fairest ladye that ever was seen[Cam’ to his armès twa].

‘O weel is me!’ says King Henry,‘How lang’ll this last wi’ me?’Then out an’ spake that fair ladye,‘Even till the day you dee.

‘For I’ve met wi’ many a gentle knightThat’s gien me sic a fill;But never before wi’ a courteous knightThat ga’e me a’ my will.’

FOOTNOTES:[140]routh = plenty.[141]burd-alone = lone as a maid.[142]jelly = jolly, jovial.[143]bierly = stout, handsome.[144]fleer = floor.[145]hat = hit.[146]mot = might.[147]hap = cover.[148]lingcanforlycam = body.[149]teather stakes = tether pegs.[150]mell = mallet.[151]wons = dwells.[152]ye’se gae = you shall go.[153]waught = draught.[154]ahin’ = behind.[155]streak = stretch.

[140]routh = plenty.

[141]burd-alone = lone as a maid.

[142]jelly = jolly, jovial.

[143]bierly = stout, handsome.

[144]fleer = floor.

[145]hat = hit.

[146]mot = might.

[147]hap = cover.

[148]lingcanforlycam = body.

[149]teather stakes = tether pegs.

[150]mell = mallet.

[151]wons = dwells.

[152]ye’se gae = you shall go.

[153]waught = draught.

[154]ahin’ = behind.

[155]streak = stretch.

IIn the third day of MayTo Carleile did comeA kind curteous childThat co’ld[156]much of wisdome.IIA kirtle and a mantleThis child had uppon,With brauches and ringesFull richelye bedone[157].IIIHe had a sute of silkeAbout his middle drawne;Without he co’ld of curtesyeHe thought it much shame.IV‘God speed thee, King Arthur,Sitting at thy meate;And the goodly Queene Guenever!I cannot her forget.V‘I tell you, lords in this hall,I hett[158]you all heed,Except you be the more surerIs for you to dread.’VIHe pluck’d out of his potener[159],And longer wo’ld not dwell,He pull’d forth a pretty mantleBetweene two nut-shells.VII‘Have thou here, King Arthur,Have thou here of mee:Give itt to thy comely queeneShapen as itt is alreadye.VIII‘Itt shall never become that wiffeThat hath once done amisse.’Then every knight in the king’s courtBegan to care[160]for his.IXForth came dame Guenever,To the mantle she her bed[161];The ladye shee was new fangle[162]But yett she was affrayd.XWhen shee had taken the mantle,She stoode as shee had beene madd;It was from the top to the toeAs sheeres had it shread.XIOne while was it gaule[163],Another while was itt greene,Another while was it wadded[164];Ill itt did her beseeme.XIIAnother while it was blacke,And bore the worst hue:‘By my troth,’ quoth King Arthur,‘I thinke thou be not true.’XIIIShee threw downe the mantle,That bright was of blee[165];Fast with a rudd redTo her chamber can[166]she flee.XIVShe cursed the weaver and the walker[167]That cloth that had wrought,And bade a vengeance on his crowneThat hither hath itt brought.XV‘I had rather be in a wood,Under a greenè tree,Than in King Arthur’s courtShamèd for to bee.’XVIKay call’d forth his ladyeAnd bade her come neere;Saies, ‘Madam, and thou be guiltyeI pray thee hold thee here.’XVIIForth came his ladyeShortlye and anon;Boldlye to the mantleThen is she gone.XVIIIWhen she had tane the mantle,And her about it castThen was she bareAll unto the waist.XIXThen every knightThat was in the King’s courtTalk’d, laugh’d and showtedFull oft att that sport.XXShe threw down the mantleThat bright was of blee,Fast with a red rudd[168]To her chamber can she flee.XXIForth came an old KnightPattering ore a creede,And he proferr’d to this little BoyTwenty markes to his meede;XXIIAnd all the time of ChristmasseWillingly to ffeede;For why[169]this mantle mightDoe his wiffe some need.XXIIIWhen shee had tane the mantleOf cloth that was made,Shee had no more left on herBut a tassell and a threed:That every knight in the King’s courtBade evill might shee speed.XXIVShe threw downe the mantle,That bright was of blee,Fast with a red ruddTo her chamber can she flee.XXVCraddocke call’d forth his ladyeAnd bade her come in;Saith, ‘Winne this mantle, ladye,With a little dinne[170].XXVI‘Winne this mantle, ladye,And it shal be thineIf thou never did amisseSince thou wast mine.’XXVIIForth came Craddocke’s ladyeShortlye and anon,But boldlye to the mantleThen is shee gone.XXVIIIWhen she had tane the mantleAnd cast it her about,Up at her great toeIt began to crinkle and crowt[171]:Shee said, ‘Bowe downe, mantle,And shame me not for nought.XXIX‘Once I did amisse,I tell you certainlye,When Craddocke’s mouth I kistUnder a greenè tree;When I kist Craddocke’s mouthBefore he marryed mee.’XXXWhen shee had her shreeven[172]And her sinnes shee had tolde,The mantle stood about herRight as she wo’ld;XXXISeemelye of coulour,Glittering like goldThen every knight in Arthur’s courtDid her behold.XXXIIThe little Boy stoodeLooking over a dore;[There as he look’dHe was ware of a wyld bore.]XXXIIIHe was ware of a wyld boreWo’ld have werryed[173]a man:He pull’d forth a wood-kniffeFast thither that he ran:He brought in the bore’s headAnd quitted him like a man.XXXIVHe brought in the bore’s head,And was wonderous bold;He said there was never a cuckold’s kniffeCarve itt that co’ld.XXXVSome rubb’d their knivesUppon a whetstone;Some threw them under the table,And said they had none.XXXVIKing Arthur and the childStood looking them upon;All their knives’ edgesTurnèd backe againe.XXXVIICraddocke had a litle kniffeOf iron and of steele;He birtled[174]the bore’s headWonderous weale,That every knight in the King’s courtHad a morssell.XXXVIIIThe litle Boy had a horne,Of red gold that ronge[175];He said, ‘There was noe cuckoldeShall drinke of my horne,But he sho’ld itt sheede[176]Either behind or beforne.’XXXIXSome shedd it on their shoulderAnd some on their knee;He that co’ld not hitt his mouthPut it in his e’e;And he that was a cuckoldEvery man might him see.XLCraddocke wan the horneAnd the bore’s head;His ladye wan the mantleUnto her meede;Everye such a lovely ladyeGod send her well to speede!

In the third day of MayTo Carleile did comeA kind curteous childThat co’ld[156]much of wisdome.

A kirtle and a mantleThis child had uppon,With brauches and ringesFull richelye bedone[157].

He had a sute of silkeAbout his middle drawne;Without he co’ld of curtesyeHe thought it much shame.

‘God speed thee, King Arthur,Sitting at thy meate;And the goodly Queene Guenever!I cannot her forget.

‘I tell you, lords in this hall,I hett[158]you all heed,Except you be the more surerIs for you to dread.’

He pluck’d out of his potener[159],And longer wo’ld not dwell,He pull’d forth a pretty mantleBetweene two nut-shells.

‘Have thou here, King Arthur,Have thou here of mee:Give itt to thy comely queeneShapen as itt is alreadye.

‘Itt shall never become that wiffeThat hath once done amisse.’Then every knight in the king’s courtBegan to care[160]for his.

Forth came dame Guenever,To the mantle she her bed[161];The ladye shee was new fangle[162]But yett she was affrayd.

When shee had taken the mantle,She stoode as shee had beene madd;It was from the top to the toeAs sheeres had it shread.

One while was it gaule[163],Another while was itt greene,Another while was it wadded[164];Ill itt did her beseeme.

Another while it was blacke,And bore the worst hue:‘By my troth,’ quoth King Arthur,‘I thinke thou be not true.’

Shee threw downe the mantle,That bright was of blee[165];Fast with a rudd redTo her chamber can[166]she flee.

She cursed the weaver and the walker[167]That cloth that had wrought,And bade a vengeance on his crowneThat hither hath itt brought.

‘I had rather be in a wood,Under a greenè tree,Than in King Arthur’s courtShamèd for to bee.’

Kay call’d forth his ladyeAnd bade her come neere;Saies, ‘Madam, and thou be guiltyeI pray thee hold thee here.’

Forth came his ladyeShortlye and anon;Boldlye to the mantleThen is she gone.

When she had tane the mantle,And her about it castThen was she bareAll unto the waist.

Then every knightThat was in the King’s courtTalk’d, laugh’d and showtedFull oft att that sport.

She threw down the mantleThat bright was of blee,Fast with a red rudd[168]To her chamber can she flee.

Forth came an old KnightPattering ore a creede,And he proferr’d to this little BoyTwenty markes to his meede;

And all the time of ChristmasseWillingly to ffeede;For why[169]this mantle mightDoe his wiffe some need.

When shee had tane the mantleOf cloth that was made,Shee had no more left on herBut a tassell and a threed:That every knight in the King’s courtBade evill might shee speed.

She threw downe the mantle,That bright was of blee,Fast with a red ruddTo her chamber can she flee.

Craddocke call’d forth his ladyeAnd bade her come in;Saith, ‘Winne this mantle, ladye,With a little dinne[170].

‘Winne this mantle, ladye,And it shal be thineIf thou never did amisseSince thou wast mine.’

Forth came Craddocke’s ladyeShortlye and anon,But boldlye to the mantleThen is shee gone.

When she had tane the mantleAnd cast it her about,Up at her great toeIt began to crinkle and crowt[171]:Shee said, ‘Bowe downe, mantle,And shame me not for nought.

‘Once I did amisse,I tell you certainlye,When Craddocke’s mouth I kistUnder a greenè tree;When I kist Craddocke’s mouthBefore he marryed mee.’

When shee had her shreeven[172]And her sinnes shee had tolde,The mantle stood about herRight as she wo’ld;

Seemelye of coulour,Glittering like goldThen every knight in Arthur’s courtDid her behold.

The little Boy stoodeLooking over a dore;[There as he look’dHe was ware of a wyld bore.]

He was ware of a wyld boreWo’ld have werryed[173]a man:He pull’d forth a wood-kniffeFast thither that he ran:He brought in the bore’s headAnd quitted him like a man.

He brought in the bore’s head,And was wonderous bold;He said there was never a cuckold’s kniffeCarve itt that co’ld.

Some rubb’d their knivesUppon a whetstone;Some threw them under the table,And said they had none.

King Arthur and the childStood looking them upon;All their knives’ edgesTurnèd backe againe.

Craddocke had a litle kniffeOf iron and of steele;He birtled[174]the bore’s headWonderous weale,That every knight in the King’s courtHad a morssell.

The litle Boy had a horne,Of red gold that ronge[175];He said, ‘There was noe cuckoldeShall drinke of my horne,But he sho’ld itt sheede[176]Either behind or beforne.’

Some shedd it on their shoulderAnd some on their knee;He that co’ld not hitt his mouthPut it in his e’e;And he that was a cuckoldEvery man might him see.

Craddocke wan the horneAnd the bore’s head;His ladye wan the mantleUnto her meede;Everye such a lovely ladyeGod send her well to speede!

FOOTNOTES:[156]co’ld = could, knew.[157]bedone = adorned.[158]hett = bid.[159]potener = pouch, purse.[160]care = bethink him.[161]bed = bid, offered.[162]new fangle = capricious.[163]gaule = gules, red.[164]wadded = of woad colour, blue.[165]blee = hue.[166]can = did.[167]walker = fuller.[168]rudd = complexion.[169]For why = because.[170]dinne = noise, i. e. ado.[171]crowt = pucker.[172]shreeven = shriven, confessed.[173]werryed = worried.[174]birtled = brittled, cut up.[175]ronge = rung, resounded.[176]sheede = shed, spill.

[156]co’ld = could, knew.

[157]bedone = adorned.

[158]hett = bid.

[159]potener = pouch, purse.

[160]care = bethink him.

[161]bed = bid, offered.

[162]new fangle = capricious.

[163]gaule = gules, red.

[164]wadded = of woad colour, blue.

[165]blee = hue.

[166]can = did.

[167]walker = fuller.

[168]rudd = complexion.

[169]For why = because.

[170]dinne = noise, i. e. ado.

[171]crowt = pucker.

[172]shreeven = shriven, confessed.

[173]werryed = worried.

[174]birtled = brittled, cut up.

[175]ronge = rung, resounded.

[176]sheede = shed, spill.

King Arthur of Little Britain unwisely boasts the beauty of his famous Round Table.

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