The wind it blew hard, and full sore it did rain:
‘Now fare you well, brave Guiltknock Hall!
I fear I shall never see thee again.’
9
Now John he is to Edenborough gone,
And his eightscore men so gallantly,
And every one of them on a milk-white steed,
With their bucklers and swords hanging down to the knee.
10
But when John he came the king before,