For pityes sake do not destroye
My ladye with your knife;
You know shee is her father's joye,
For Christes sake save her life. 60
I will not save her life, he sayd,
Nor make my pyes of thee;
Yet if thou dost this deed bewraye,
Thy butcher I will bee.
Now when this lord he did come home 65
For to sit downe and eat;
He called for his daughter deare,
To come and carve his meat.
Now sit you downe, his ladye sayd,
O sit you downe to meat: 70
Into some nunnery she is gone;
Your daughter deare forget.
Then solemnlye he made a vowe,
Before the companìe:
That he would neither eat nor drinke, 75
Until he did her see.
O then bespake the scullion-boye,
With a loud voice so hye:
If now you will your daughter see,
My lord, cut up that pye: 80
Wherein her fleshe is minced small,
And parched with the fire:
All caused by her step-mothèr,
Who did her death desire.
And cursed bee the master-cook, 85
O cursed may he bee!
I proffered him my own hearts blood,
From death to set her free.
Then all in blacke this lord did mourne;
And for his daughters sake, 90
He judged her cruell step-mothèr
To be burnt at a stake.
Likewise he judg'd the master-cook
In boiling lead to stand;
And made the simple scullion-boye 95
The heire of all his land.