[71. The Fair Flower of Northumberland]
I
It was a knight in Scotland born,
Follow, my love, come over the strand—
Was taken prisoner and left forlorn,
Even by the good Earl of Northumberland.
II
Then was he cast in prison strong,
Follow, my love, come over the strand—
Where he could not walk nor lie along,
Even by the good Earl of Northumberland.
III
And as in sorrow thus he lay,
Follow, my love, come over the strand—
The Earl’s sweet daughter walk’d that way,
And she the faire flower of Northumberland.
IV
And loud to her this knight did crie,
Follow, my love, come over the strand—
The salt teares standing in his eye,
And she the faire flower of Northumberland.