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She sat her by the nut-browne bride,
And her een they wer fae clear, Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,
Whan fair Annet drew near.
Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa',
Fair Annet within the quiere; And o' the tane thair grew a birk,
The other a bonny briere.
And ay they grew, and ay they threw,
As they wad faine be neare;
They were twa luvers deare,
The next was captain Norris,
A valliant man was hee;
Alas! there were no more,
Upon the bloody shore.
Stand to it noble pikemen,
And look you round about:
And we will keep them out:
You musquet and calliver men,
Do you prove true to me, l'le be the foremost man in fight,
Says brave lord Willoughbey.
For seven hours to all mens view
This fight endured sore, Untill our men so feeble grew
That they could fight no more, And then upon dead horses
Full favourly they eat,
They could no better get.
When they had fed so freely
They kneeled on the ground,
For the favour they had found 3 And beating up their colours,
The fight they did renew, And turning towords the Spaniard
A thousand more they slew,
Then quoth the Spanish general,
Come let us march away, I fear we shall be spoiled all
If here we longer stay; For yonder comes lord Willoughbey
With courage fierce and fell, He will not give one inch of way
For all the devils in hell,