Did to their head quarters draw near,
By which Sir Andrew relief had,
And made this siege a fair blockade.
Here the wheel it turn’d, I trow,
And luck to Charles bad adieu.
’Tis oft misfortunes come together,
Or after one mischief another,
His men half mad for want of pay,
Had little to eat, what’s worse, I say?
Being hemm’d in on ev’ry side,