Now sit you downe, his ladye say'd,
Oh sit you down to meat;
Into some nunnery she is gone,
Your daughter deare forget.
Then solemnlye he made a vowe
Before the companie,
That he would neither eat nor drinke
Until he did her see.
Oh then bespake the scullion-boye,
With a loud voice so hye—If
now you will your daughter see,
My lord, cut up that pye:
Wherein her flesh is minced small,
And parched with the fire;
All caused by her stepmother,
Who did her death desire.
And cursed bee the master-cook,
Oh cursed may he bee!
I proffer'd him my own heart's blood,
From death to set her free.
Then all in blacke this lord did mourne,
And, for his daughter's sake,
He judged her cruell stepmother
To be burnt at a stake.
Likewise he judged the master-cook
In boiling lead to stand;
And made the simple scullion-boye
The heire of all his land.
