Down to the kirk-door came the bride,
(Put your armour on)—
And bold Sir John was close at her side—
“I’m first,” said John.
He lifted her up on his war-horse white
(Put your armour on)—
“I wish Sir Lovel a gay good-night!”
All from Sir John.
When dawn is red, and the small birds sing
(Put your armour on),
Sir Lovel has ridden to seek the king.
“I go too,” says John.
“My liege, my liege, an thou wilt hear
(Put your armour on),
I’ve a tale of wrong for thy gracious ear!”
“’Tis of me,” said John.
“Yest’re’en it was my bridal gay
(Put your armour on),
But another knight bore the bride away.”
“’Twas I,” said John.
“Since to ye both the maid is so dear
(Put your armour on),
Lo! for her love ye shall break a spear.”
“I shall win,” said John.
The first course that they rode together
(Put your armour on),
Sir Lovel he broke his stirrup-leather.
“Hold up,” said John.
But when they ran the second course
(Put your armour on),
Dead fell Sir Lovel, hurled from his horse—
“Lie there!” said John.
The bride clapped her hands to see the show
(Put your armour on)—
“Ha! ha! for the wolf and the carrion-crow!”
So he won, Sir John.
Bind on your helms of the burning gold,
And follow Sir John!