Which is no little grief to me:
Fetch them back," says Sir Andrew Barton,
"They all shall hang at my main-mast tree."
With that the pinnace it shot off;
That my Lord Howard might it well ken;
It stroke down my lord's fore-mast,
And killed fourteen of my lord his men.
"Come hither, Simon," says my lord Howard,
"Look that thy words be true thou said;
I'll hang thee at my main-mast tree,