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 For when his legs were smitten off, He fought upon his stumpes.

And with Erie Douglas, there was slaine

Sir Hugh Mountgomerye, Sir Charles Murray, that from the field

One foote would never flee;

Sir Charles Murray, of Ratcliff, too,

His sister's sonne was he; Sir David Lamb, so well esteemed,

Yet saved he could not be;

And the Lord Maxwell in like case

Did with Erie Douglas dye : Of twenty hundred Scottish speares,

Scarce fifty-five did flye.

Of fifteen hundred Englishmen,

Went home but fifty-three: The rest were slaine in Chevy-Chace,

Under the greene woode tree.

Next day did many widdowes come,

Their husbands to bewayle; They washt their wounds in brinish teares,

But all wold not prevayle;

Their bodyes, bathed in purple gore,

They bore with them away; They kist them dead a thousand times,

Ere they were clad in clay.

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