A Folk Song upholded by Francis Child, from the 16th yearhundred.
King Henry did a fareld ride,
To take the air and see his fleet,
When fifty traders drew him nigh,
And on their knees they kissed his feet.
“And please, my Lord, we may not sail
For Frankrike, no fareld do we dare,
But Andrew Barton he makes us quail,
And reaves us of our trader ware.”
Gremed was the King, and wending him,
Says to his lords of high standing,
“Is there no lord in all my rike
Dare fetch this viking unto me?”
Lord Charles Howard him answered,
“I will my Lord with heart and hand.
If it you please to give me leave
I will do forth as you wordbid.”
He had not been long on the sea,
For days not more than two or three,
When Andrew Barton he espied
Come sailing down the wind so free.
He was brass within and steel without,
His ship most huge and mighty strong,
With eighteen bits good and stout
He carried on each side along.
Bold Barton called his men amain,
“Fetch me yon trader now,” quoth he,
“Against this way he come again
I will teach him well his kindness.”
A bit of streal it was shot
By this stolt viking fiercely then
Into Lord Howard's middle deck,
Which crude shot killed fourteen men.
But Howard's broadside come so hot,
It tapped that pirate's side amain,
And likewise at the deck he shot
Til' fifty of his foes were slain.
“Alack!” then cried this viking stout,
“I am in great plight now, I see.
This is some Lord, I greatly wonder,
That is set on to upend me.”
His men being slain, then up aloft
To his great topburg he sped.
For armour good he had put on
And did not dint of arrows dread.
But an archer spied a sundry place,
With flawless eye, in hidden part.
His arrow swiftly loosed apace
Which smote Sir Andrew through the heart.
Lord Howard went where Sir Andrew lay,
And quickly thence cut off his head.
“I would forsake Angland all my days
Were't thou alive as thou art dead.”
But from the wars Lord Howard came
With goodly mirth and winsinging,
And Barton's head he brought with him,
A gift for Henry his King.