A Tragical BALLAD on the Unfortunate LOVE
OF
Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor:
TOGETHER
With the downfal of the Brown GIRL.
To a pleasant Tune, calld, Lord Thomas, etc
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LORD Thomas he was a bold Forester,
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And a Chaser of the Kings Deer;
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Fair Eleanor was a fine Woman,
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And Lord Thomas he lovd her dear.
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Come Riddle my Riddle, dear Mother, he said,
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And Riddle us both as one,
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Whether I shall marry with fair Eleanor,
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And let the Brown Girl alone?
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The Brown Girl she has got Houses and Lands
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And fair Eleanor she has got none;
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Therefore I charge you on my Blessing,
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Bring me the Brown Girl Home
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And as it befel on a high Holiday.
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As many did more beside,
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Lord Thomas he went to fair Eleanor,
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That should have been his Bride.
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But when he came to fair Eleanors Bower
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He knocked there at the Ring;
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But who was so ready as fair Eleanor,
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For to let Lord Thomas in.
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What News, what news, Lord Thomas? she said
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What News hast thou brought to me?
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I am come to bid thee to my Wedding,
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And that is bad News for thee.
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O God forbid, Lord Thomas, she said,
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That such a Thing should be done;
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I thought to have been thy Bride my ownself,
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And you to have been the Bridegroom.
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Come Riddle my Riddle dear Mother, she said
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And Riddle it all in one,
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Whether I shall go to Lord Thomas Wedding
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Or whether I shall tarry at Home?
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Theres many that are your Friends, Daughter,
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And many that are your Foe;
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Therefore I charge you on my Blessing,
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To Lord Thomas Wedding dont go.
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Theres many that are my Friends, Mother.
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If a Thousand more were my Foe;
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Betide my Life, betide my Death,
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To Lord Thomas Wedding Ill go.
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She cloathed herself in gallant attire,
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And her merry Men all in Green;
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And as they rid through every Town,
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They took her to have been a Queen,
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But when she came to Lord Thomass Gate,
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She knocked there at the Ring;
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But who was so ready as Lord Thomas,
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To let fair Eleanor in.
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Is this your Bride? fair Eleanor she said,
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Methinks she looks wonderous Brown:
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Thou mights have had as fair a Woman,
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As ever trod on the Ground.
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Despise her not, fair Eleanor, he said,
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Despise her not unto me:
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For better I love thy little Finger,
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Then all her whole Body.
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This brown Bride had a little Pen-knife,
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That was both long and sharp;
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And betwixt the short Ribs and the long,
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Prickd fair Eleanor to the Heart,
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Oh! Christ now save thee, Lord Thomas, he said
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Methinks thou looks wonderous wan:
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Thou usd for to look with as fresh a Colour,
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As ever the Sun shined on.
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Oh! art thou blind! Lord Thomas, she said,
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Or canst thou not very well see?
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Oh! dost thou not see my own Hearts Blood
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Run trickling down my knee.
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Lord Thomas he had a Sword by his Side,
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As he walked about the Hall;
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He cut off his Brides Head from her Shoulders,
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And he threw it against the Wall.
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He set the Hilt against the Ground,
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And the Point against his Heart.
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There was never three Lovers that ever met,
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Did eer so soon depart.
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