And win it back with mickle blood,
Nor gaine one foot of soil thereby;
While here dejected and forlorn
My wife and babes are left to mourn;
My goodly mansion rudely marred,
All trusted to my dogs to guard.
But I, fair comrade, well I wot
An ancient saw of pregnant wit
Doth bid us keep what we have got;
And troth I mean to follow it.”