Simon grew angry at these words,
And so angry then was he,
That he took his bent bow in his hand,
And in the ship-hatch goe doth he.
Master, tye me to the mast, saith he,
That at my mark I may stand fair,
And give me my bent bow in my hand,
And never a Frenchman will I spare.
He drew his arrow to the very head,
And drew it with all might and maine,