The LIFE and DEATH of Sir Hugh-in-the-Grime.
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AS it fell out upon one time,
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About Midsummer of the Year;
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Every Man was taxd of his Crime,
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For stealing the good Lord Bishops Mare.
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The good Lord S[c]rew saddled a Horse,
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And after the same Scrime,
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Before he could get over the Moss,
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There was he aware of Sir Hugh-in-the-Grime.
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Turn, O turn, thou false Traytor,
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Turn and yield thy self unto me;
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Thou hast stolen the Lord Bishops Mare,
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And now thou thinkest away to flee.
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No, soft Lord Screw, that may not be,
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Here is a broad Sword by my Side,
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And if that thou canst Conquer me,
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The Victory will soon be tryd.
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I neer was afraid of a Traytor bold,
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Altho my Name be Hugh in the Grime,
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Ill make thee repent thy Speeches foul,
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If Day and Life but give me Time.
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Then do thy worst good Lord Screw,
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And deal your blows as fast as you can,
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It will be tried between me and you,
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Which of us Two shall be the best Man.
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Thus they dealt their Blows so free,
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And both so bloody at that time,
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Over the Moss ten Yeomen they see
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Come for to take Sir Hugh-in the-Grime.
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Sir Hugh set his Back against a Tree,
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And then the Men compast him round,
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His mickle Sword from his Hand did flee,
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And then they brought Sir Hugh to the Ground.
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Sir Hugh-in-the-Grime now taken is,
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And brought back to Garland Town,
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Then cryd the good Wives all in Garland Town,
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Sir Hugh-in-the Grime thoust neer gang down.
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The good Lord Bishop is come to Town,
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And on the Bench is set so high,
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And every Man was taxd to his Crime,
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At length he calld to Sir Hugh in-the-Grime.
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Here am I, thou false Bishop,
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Thy humours all for to fulfil,
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I do not think my Fact so great,
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But thou mayst put it into thy own Will.
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The Quest of Jury-men was calld,
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The best that was in Garland Town;
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Eleven of them spoke all in a Breast,
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Sir Hugh-in-the-Grime thoust neer gang down.
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Then other Questry-men was calld,
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The best that was in Rumary,
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Twelve of them spoke all in a Breast,
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Sir Hugh-in-the-Grime thoust now guilty.
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Then came down my good Lord Bowls,
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Falling down upon his Knee;
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Five hundred Pieces of Gold will I give,
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To grant Sir Hugh-in-the-Grime to me.
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Peace, peace, my good Lord Bowls,
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And of your Speeches set them by,
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If there be Eleven Grimes all of a Name,
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Then by my own Honour they all should die.
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Then came down my good Lady Ward,
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Falling low upon her Knee,
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Five hundred Measures of Gold Ill give,
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To grant Sir Hugh-in-the-Grime to me.
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Peace, peace, my good Lady Ward,
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None of your Proffers shall him buy,
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For if there be twelve Grimes all of a Name,
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By my own Honour they all should die.
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Sir Hugh in-the-Grimes Condemnd to die,
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And of his Friends he had no lack,
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Fourteen Foot he leapt in his Ward,
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With his Hands bound fast upon his Back.
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Then he lookd over his left Shoulder,
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To see whom he could see or spy,
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There was he aware of his Father dear,
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Come tearing his Hair most pitifully.
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Peace, peace, my Father dear,
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And of your Speeches set them by,
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Though they have bereavd me of my Life,
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They cannot bereave me of Heaven so high.
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He lookd over his right Shoulder,
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To see whom he could see or spy,
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There was he aware of his Mother dear,
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Came tearing her Hair most pittifully.
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Pray have me rememberd to Peggy my Wife,
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As she and I walkd over the Moor,
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She was the Causer of the Loss of my Life,
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And with the old Bishop she playd the Whore.
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Here Johnny Armstrong take thou my Sword
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That is made of the Metal so fine,
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And when thou comst to the Border-side,
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Remember the Death of Sir Hugh-in-the-Grime.
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