'Say, were ye tired of godly peace,
And godly Henry's reign,
That you did chop your easy days
For those of blood and pain?
'What though I on a sledge be drawn,
And mangled by a hind,
I do defy the traitor's power;
He cannot harm my mind:
'What though, uphoisted on a pole,
My limbs shall rot in air,
And no rich monument of brass
Charles Bawdin's name shall bear;
'Yet in the holy book above,
Which time can't eat away,
There with the servants of the Lord
My name shall live for aye.
'Then welcome death, for life eterne
I leave this mortal life:
Farewell, vain world, and all that's dear,
My sons and loving wife!
'Now death as welcome to me comes
As e'er the month of May;
Now would I even wish to live,
With my dear wife to stay.'
Saith Canynge: ''Tis a goodly thing
To be prepared to die;
And from this world of pain and grief
To God in heaven to fly.'
And now the bell began to toll,
And clarions to sound;
Sir Charles he heard the horses' feet
A-prancing on the ground.
And just before the officers,
His loving wife came in,
Weeping unfeignèd tears of woe
With loud and dismal din.
'Sweet Florence, now I pray forbear,
In quiet let me die;
Pray God that every Christian soul
May look on death as I.