"What tydings, what tydings, thou Tommy Pots,
Thou art so full of courtesie?
Thou hast slain some of thy fellows fair,
Or wrought to me some villany."140
"I have slain none of my fellows fair,
Nor wrought to you no villany,
But I have a love in Scotland fair,
And I fear I shall lose her with poverty.
"If you'l not believe me by word of mouth,145
But read this letter, and you shall see,
Here by all these suspitious words
That she her own self hath sent to me."
But when he had read the letter fair,
Of all the suspitious words in it might be,150
"O Tommy Pots, take thou no care,
Thou'st never lose her with poverty.
"For thou'st have forty pounds a week,
In gold and silver thou shalt row,
And Harvy town I will give thee,155
As long as thou intend'st to wooe.
"Thou'st have forty of thy fellows fair,
And forty horses to go with thee,
Forty of the best spears I have,
And I myself in thy company."160
"I thank you, master," said Tommy Pots,
"That proffer is too good for me;
But, if Jesus Christ stand on my side,
My own hands shall set her free.
"God be with you, master," said Tommy Pots,165
"Now Jesus Christ you save and see;
If ever I come alive again,
Staid the wedding it shall be."
"O God be your speed, thou Tommy Pots,
Thou art well proved for a man;170
See never a drop of blood thou spil,
Nor yonder gentleman confound.