‘But now yonder pedlers, they are past,
Which is no litle greffe to me:
Ffeich them backe,’ sayes Sir Andrew Bartton,
‘They shall all hang att my maine-mast tree.’
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With that the pinnace itt shott of,
That my Lord Haward might itt well ken;
Itt stroke downe my lords fforemast,
And killed fourteen of my lord his men.
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