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And some of them were clad in greene,
And others were clad in pall,
The faireft among them all.
I have a bower at Bucklesford-Bury,
Full daintilye bedight,
Thouit lig in mine armes ail night.
All this beheard a tiney foot-page,
By his lady es coach as he ranne:
Yet Ime my lord Barnardes manne.
If it be trewe, thou tiney foot-page,
This tale thou hast told to mee, Then all my lands in Bucklesford-Bury
I freelye will give to thee.
Methinkes I hear the throstle cocke,
Methinkes I hcare the jaye, Methinkes I heare lorde Barnardes horne,
I would I were awaye.
With that lord Bernard came to the dore,
And lighted upon a stone;
And opened the dores eche one.
I find her sweete, quoth little Musgrave,
The more is my griefe and paine; Ide gladlye give three hundred poundes That I were on yonder plaine.
He cut her pappes from off her brests
Great pitye it was to fee
Run trickling down her knee.