Methinkes I heare the throstle cocke,
Methinkes I heare the jay,
Methinkes I heare lord Barnards home;
I would I were awaye. 60
Lye still, lye still, thou little Musgràve,
And huggle me from the cold;
For it is but some shephardes boye
A whistling his sheepe to the fold.[226]
Is not thy hawke upon the pearche, 65
Thy horse eating corne and haye?
And thou a gay lady within thine armes:
And wouldst thou be awaye?
By this lord Barnard was come to the dore,
And lighted upon a stone: 70
And he pulled out three silver keyes,
And opened the dores eche one.
He lifted up the coverlett,
He lifted up the sheete;
How now, how now, thou little Musgràve, 75
Dost find my gaye ladye sweete?
I find her sweete, quoth little Musgràve,
The more is my griefe and paine;
Ide gladlye give three hundred poundes
That I were on yonder plaine. 80
Arise, arise, thou little Musgràve,
And put thy cloathes nowe on,
It shall never be said in my countree,
That I killed a naked man.
I have two swordes in one scabbàrde, 85
Full deare they cost my purse;
And thou shalt have the best of them,
And I will have the worse.
The first stroke that little Musgrave strucke,
He hurt lord Barnard sore; 90
The next stroke that lord Barnard strucke,
Little Musgrave never strucke more.
With that bespake the ladye faire,
In bed whereas she laye,
Althoughe thou art dead, my little Musgràve, 95
Yet for thee I will praye: