29
Shee stood soe long quacking on the ground
Till her hart itt burst in three;
And then shee ffell dead downe in a swoond,
And this was the end of this bonny ladye.
30
Ithe morning, when her ffather gott vpp,
A pittyffull sight there he might see;
His owne deere daughter was dead, without clothes,
The teares they trickeled fast ffrom his eye.
31
. . . . . . .
Sais, Fye of gold, and ffye of ffee!
For I sett soe much by my red gold
That now itt hath lost both my daughter and mee!'
32
. . . . . . .
But after this time he neere dought good day,
But as flowers doth fade in the frost,
Soe he did wast and weare away.
33
But let vs leaue talking of this ladye,
And talke some more of young Andrew;
Ffor ffalse he was to this bonny ladye,
More pitty that he had not beene true.
34
He was not gone a mile into the wild forrest,
Or halfe a mile into the hart of Wales,
But there they cought him by such a braue wyle
That hee must come to tell noe more tales.
* * * * *
35
. . . . . . .
Ffull soone a wolfe did of him smell,
And shee came roaring like a beare,
And gaping like a ffeend of hell.
36
Soe they ffought together like two lyons,
And fire betweene them two glashet out;
Thé raught eche other such a great rappe,
That there young Andrew was slaine, well I wott.
37
But now young Andrew he is dead,
But he was neuer buryed vnder mold,
For ther as the wolfe devoured him,
There lyes all this great erles gold.