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1 . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
'Ffor this same night att [Bucklesfeildberry]
Litle Musgreue is in bed with thy wife.'
2 'If it be trew, thou litle foote-page,
This tale thou hast told to mee,
Then all my lands in Bucklefeildberry
I'le freely giue to thee.
3 'But if this be a lye, thou little foot-page,
This tale thou hast told to mee,
Then on the highest tree in Bucklesfeildberry
All hanged that thou shalt bee.'
4 Saies, Vpp and rise, my merrymen all,
And saddle me my good steede,
For I must ride to Bucklesfeildberry;
God wott I had neuer more need!
5 But some they whistled, and some thé sunge,
And some they thus cold say,
When euer as Lord Barnetts horne blowes,
'Away, Musgreue, away!'
6 'Mie thinkes I heare the throstlecocke,
Me thinkes I heare the iay,
Me thinkes I heare Lord Barnetts horne,
Away, Musgreue, away!'
7 'But lie still, lie still, Litle Musgreue,
And huddle me from the cold,
For it is but some sheaperds boy,
Is whistling sheepe ore the mold.
8 'Is not thy hauke vpon a pearch,
Thy horsse eating corne and hay?
And thou, a gay lady in thine armes,
And yett thou wold goe away!'
9 By this time Lord Barnett was come to the dore,
And light vpon a stone,
And he pulled out three silver kayes,
And opened the dores euery one.