Now shall I draw it near an end,
And tauk nae mare of her at least,
But hoping none for to offend,
You shall hear part of her funeral feast.
To her resorted mony a beak,
And birds of sundry sorts of hue;
There was three hundred at the least,
You may believe it to be true.
Sir Ingram Corby he came first there,
With his fair lady clad in black,