Francis James Child

“ As she in child-bed lay,
'Make your will, make your will, Lord Derwentwater,
Before that you go away.'
'Then here's for thee, my lady fair,
. . . .
A thousand pounds of beaten gold,
To lead you a lady's life.'
. . . . ”

“ When his horse stumbled over a stone;
'These are tokens enough,' said my lord Derwentwater,
'That I shall never return.'
He rode and he rode till he came to merry London,
And near to that famous hall;
The lords and knights of merry London,
They did him a traitor call.
'A traitor! a traitor! a traitor!' he cried,
'A traitor! how can that be,
Unless it's for keeping five hundred men
For to fight for King Jamie?'
It's up yon steps there stands a good old man,
With a broad axe in his hand ”

“ O all you lords and knichts into fair London town,
Be kind to my ladie.
'There's fifty pounds in my richt pocket,
Divide it to the poor;
There's other fifty pounds in my left pocket,
Divide it from door to door.'
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THE king he wrote a love-letter,
And he sealed it up with gold,
And he sent it to Lord Derwentwater,
For to read it if he could. ”