Though it lay now on a rawe {55}
God forbede, sayd lytell Much,
That dyed on a tre,
That thou sholdest, Lytell Johan,
Parte our company.
Up he toke him on his backe,
And bare hym well a myle,
Many a tyme he layd hym downe
And shot another whyle.
Then was there a fayre castèll,