“Forests have ears, and fields have eyes—
We must wander, my maid, as the wild swan flies,
Now we are severed both from friends and kinsmen.”
LOVEL AND JOHN
Lo now, I bid you, my merry men all,
Put your armour on,[A]
Bind on your helms of the burning gold,
And follow Sir John!
Sir Peter rides home from the Thing so fleet,
(Put your armour on),
Little Kirstin comes forth her father to greet—
And ask after John.
“Welcome, dear father, home from the Thing!
(Put your armour on)
Say now, what tidings hast thou to bring?”
What news of Sir John?
“This is the news that I bring to thee—
(Put your armour on),
That young Sir Lovel thy bridegroom shall be,
And not Sir John.”
“If young Sir Lovel my bridegroom shall be
(Put your armour on),
Sorrow and care he shall have with me.”
Oh fickle Sir John!
Sir Lovel he rides to his bridal bright;
(Put your armour on)—
Sir John has saddled his war-horse white—
“I go too,” says John.
Sir John he rode to the blithe bridàle
(Put your armour on)
High on his horse, in his coat of mail.
“I’m coming,” said John.
The bride she busked her, so runs the rime
(Put your armour on),
As the bells were ringing a merry chime—
“I’m ready,” said John.