Thus did both those nobles die,
Whose courage none could stain.
An English archer then perceived
The noble earl was slain.
He had a good bow in his hand,
Made of a trusty tree.
An arrow of a cloth-yard long,
Up to the head drew he.
Against Sir Hugh Montgomery,
So right the shaft he set;
The grey-goose wing that was thereon,
In his heart's blood was wet.
This fight did last from break of day
Till setting of the sun:
For when they rang the evening bell,
The battle scarce was done.
With stout Earl Percy there were slain
Sir John of Egerton,
Sir Robert Ratcliff, and Sir John,
Sir James, that bold Baron.
And with Sir George and stout Sir James,
Both Knights of good account,
Good Sir Ralph Raby there was slain,
Whose prowess did surmount.
For Witherington needs must I wail,
As one in doleful dumps,
For when his legs were smitten off,
He fought upon his stumps.
And with Earl Douglas there were slain
Sir Hugh Montgomery;
And Sir Charles Murray, that from field
One foot would never flee.
Sir Charles Murray of Ratcliff, too,
His sister's son was he:
Sir David Lamb, so well esteemed,
But savèd he could not be.
And the Lord Maxwell, in like case,
Did with Earl Douglas die.
Of twenty hundred Scottish spears
Scarce fifty-five did fly.