From Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, 247.
The Queen fell sick, and very, very sick,
She was sick, and like to dee,
And she sent for a friar oure frae France,
Her cónfessour to be.
King Henry, when he heard o' that,5
An angry man was he;
And he sent to the Earl Marshall,
Attendance for to gie.
"The Queen is sick," King Henry cried,
"And wants to be beshriven;10
She has sent for a friar oure frae France;
By the rude, he were better in heaven!
"But tak you now a friar's guise,
The voice and gesture feign,
And when she has the pardon crav'd,15
Respond to her, Amen!
"And I will be a prelate old,
And sit in a corner dark,
To hear the adventures of my spouse,
My spouse, and her holy spark."20
"My liege, my liege, how can I betray
My mistress and my queen!
O swear by the rude, that no damage
From this shall be gotten or gien!"
"I swear by the rude," quoth King Henry,25
"No damage shall be gotten or gien,
Come, let us spare no cure nor care
For the conscience o' the Queen."
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