God prosper long our noble king, Our lives and safeties all; A woeful hunting once there did In Chevy-Chace befall;
To drive the deer with hound and horn Erle Percy took his way; The child may rue that is unborn, The hunting of that day.
The stout Erle of Northumberland A vow to God did make, His pleasure in the Scottish woods Three summer's days to take,
The chiefest harts in Chevy-Chace To kill and bear away. These tydings to Erle Douglas came, In Scotland where he lay:
Who sent Erle Percy present word, He wold prevent his sport. The English Erle, not fearing that, Did to the woods resort
With fifteen hundred bow-men bold, All chosen men of might, Who knew full well in time of neede To ayme their shafts aright.
The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran, To chase the fallow deere: On Monday they began to hunt, Ere daylight did appeare;
And long before high noone they had An hundred fat buckes slaine; Then having dined, the drovyers went To rouse the deere againe.
The bow-men mustered on the hills, Well able to endure; Their backsides all, with special care That day were guarded sure.
The hounds ran swiftly through the woods, The nimble deere to take, And with their cryes the hills and dales An echo shrill did make.