Now shalte thou se what lyfe we lede,
Or thou hens wende,
Than thou may enfourme our kynge,
Whan ye togyder lende.
Up they sterte all in hast,
Theyr bowes were smartly bent,
Our kynge was never so sore agast,
He wende to have be shente.
Two yerdes there were up set,
There to gan they gange ;