A memorable Song, on the unhappy Hunting in Chevy-Chase, between Earl Piercy of England, and Earl Dowglas of Scotland.  
To the Tune of, Flying Fame  

GOd prosper long our Noble King,  
our lives and safeties all,  
A woeful Hunting once there did  
in Chevy Chase befall:  
To drive the Dear with hound and horn  
Earl Piercy took his way,  
The Child may rue that is unborn,  
the Hunting of that day.   

The stout Earl of Northumberland,  
a vow to God hide make,  
His pleasure in the Scottish Woods,  
three Summers days to take,  
The chiefest Hearts in Chevy Chase,  
to kill and bear away:  
These tidings to Earl Dowglas came,  
in Scotland where he lay,   

Who sent Earl Piercy present word,  
he would prevent his sport,  
The English Earl not fearing this,  
did to the Woods resort,  
With fifteen hundred Bowmen bold  
all chosen men of might,  
Who knew full well in time of war,  
to aim there shafts aright.   

The gallant Grayhounds swiftly ran,  
to chase the Fallow Dear,  
On Monday they began to hunt,  
when daylight did appear,  
And long before high noon they had,  
an hundred fat Bucks slain.  
Then having dined the Drovers went,  
to rouse them up again.   

The Bowmen mustered on the hills,  
well able to endure,  
Their backsides all with special care  
that day was guarded sure.  
The Hounds ran swiftly through the woods  
the nimble Dear to take,  
That with their cries the Hits and Dales  
an Echo shrill did maky.   

Lord Piercy to the Quarry went,  
to view the tender Dear,  
Quoth he, Earl Dowglas promised,  
this day to meet me here;  
But if I thought he would not come,  
no longer would I stay:  
With that a brave young Gentleman,  
thus to the Earl did say,   

Lo, yonder doth Earl Dowglas come,  
his men in Armour bright,  
Full fifteen hundred Scottish Spears,  
all marching in our sight,  
All pleasant men of Tevidale,  
fast by the River Tweed:  
Then cease your sport Earl Piercy said,  
and take your Bows with speed.   

And now with me my Countrymen  
your courage forth advance;  
For never was there Champion yet,  
in Scotland or in France,  
That ever did on horseback come,  
and if my hap it were,  
I durst encounter man for man,  
with him to break a Spear,   

Earl Dowglas on a milk white Steed,  
most like a Baron bold,  
Road foremost of the company,  
whose Armour shone like Gold:  
Show me said he whose men you be,  
that hunt so boldly here,  
That without my consent do chase,  
and kill my Fallow Dear,   

The man that first did answer make,  
was Noble Piercy he,  
Who said we list not to declare,  
nor tell whose men we be,  
Yet we will spend our dearest blood,  
thy chiefest Hearts to stay:  
Then Dowglas swore a solemn Oath,  
and thus enrage did say,   

Ere thus I will out braved be,  
one of us two shall die,  
I know thee well an Earl thou art,  
Lord Piercy so am I:  
But trust me, Piercy, pity 'ttwere,  
and great offence to kill:  
Any of these our harmless men,  
for they have done no ill:   
Let thou and I the Battle try,  
and set our men aside;  
Accursed be he Lord Piercy said,  
by whom it is denied.  
Then stepped a gallant Squire forth,  
Witherington was his name,  
Who said, he would not have it told,  
to Henry our King for shame.  

That ere my Captain fought one foot,  
and I stood looking on;  
You two be Earls, quoth Witherington,  
and I a Squire alone,  
I'll do the best that do I may,  
while I have power to stand,  
While I have power to wield my sword,  
I'll fight with heart and hand,   

Our English Archers bend there Bows  
there hearts beware good and true,  
At the first flight of Arrows sent,  
full fourscore Scots they slew.  
To drive the Dear with hound and horns  
Dowglas bad on the bent.  
A Captain moved with much pride  
the Spears to shivers went.   

They closed full fast on every side,  
no slackness there was found,  
And many a gallant Gentleman,  
lay gasping on the ground:  
O Christ it were a grief to see,  
and likewise for to hear,  
The cries of men lying in there gore,  
and scattered here and there.   

At last the two stout Earls did meet,  
like Captains of great might,  
Like Lions moved they laid on load  
and made a cruel fight:  
They fought until they both did sweat,  
with swords of tempered steel,  
Until the blood like drops of rain,  
they trickling down did feel.   

Yield thee Lord Piercy, Dowglas said,  
in faith I will thee bring,  
Where thou shalt high advanced be:  
by james our Scottish King;  
Thy ransom will I freely give.  
and this report of thee,  
Thou art the most courageous Knight,  
as ever I did see.   

No Dowglas, quoth Earl Piercy then,  
thy proffers I do scorn,  
I will not yield to any Scot,  
that ever yet was borne.  
With that there came an arrow kéene,  
out of an English Bow,  
And struck Earl Dowglas to the heart,  
a deep and deadly blow:   

Who never spoke more words than these  
Fight on my merry men all.  
For why my life is at an end,  
Earl Piercy sees me fall:  
Then leaving life, Earl Piercy took,  
the dead man by the hand,  
And said, Earl Dowglas for thy life,  
would I had lost my Land.   

O Christ, my very heart doth bleed,  
with sorrow 〈…〉 sake.  
For sure 〈…〉  
mischa 〈…〉  
A Knigh 〈…〉  
which 〈…〉  
Who 〈…〉  
upon the 〈…〉   

The Second part,  
to the same tune.  

SIr Hugh Montgomery was he called  
who with a Spear full bright,  
Well mounted on a gallant Steed,  
ran fiercely through the fight:  
And past the English Archers all,  
without all dread or fear,  
And through Earl Piercies body then,  
he thrust his hateful Spear,   

With such a vehement force and might,  
his body he did gore,  
The staff ran through the other side  
a large Cloth yard or more:  
Thus did both these stout Nobles die,  
whose courage none could stain:  
An English Archer then perceived  
the Noble Earl was slain.   

He had a good Bow in his hand,  
made of a trusty Tree:  
An Arrow of a Cloth-yard long,  
unto the head drew he,  
Against Sir Hugh Montgomery,  
so right his shaft he set,  
The Gray-goose wing that was thereon  
in his heart blood was wet   

The fight did last from break of day,  
till setting of the Sun.  
For when they wrung the evening Bell  
the Battle scarce was done:  
With stout Earl Piercy there was slain  
Sir John of Ogerton,  
Sir Robert Rateliffe and sir john,  
Sir james that bold Baron.   

And with Sir George and good sir james.  
both Knights of good account,  
Good sir Ralph Rebby there was slain '  
whose prowess did surmount:  
For Witherington needs must I wail,  
as one in doleful dumps,  
For when his Legs were smitten off  
he fought upon his stumps.   

And with Earl Dowglas there was slain  
Sir Hugh Montgomery,  
Sir Charles Morrell that from the field,  
one foot would never fly,  
Sir Charles Morrell of Ratcliff too;  
his Sister's Son was he,  
Sir David Lamb so well esteemed,  
but saved he could not be.   

And the Lord Markewel in like case,  
did with Earl Dowglas die,  
Of twenty hundred Scotish Spears,  
scarce fifty five did fly:  
Of fifteen hundred Englishmen,  
went home but fiifty three,  
The rest were slain in Chevy-Chase,  
under the Gréene-wood Tree.   

Next day did many Widows come,  
there husbands to bewail  
They washed their wounds in brinish tears  
but all would not prevail,  
There bodies bathed in purple blood,  
they bore with them away,  
They kissed them dead a thousand times,  
when they were clad in clay.   

This news was bronght to Edenburg,  
where Scotland's King did reign,  
That brave Earl Dowglas suddenly,  
was with an Arrow slain:  
O heavy news King james did say,  
Scotland can witness be,  
I have not any Captanie more,  
of such account as he.   

Like tidings to King Henery came,  
within a short a space,  
That Piercy of Northumberland,  
was slain in Chevy-Chase,  
Now God be with him said our King.  
s●th 'twill no better be,  
I trust I have within my Realm,  
fiive hundred as good as he,   

Yet shall not Scots nor Scotland say,  
but I will vengeance take,  
And be revenged one them all,  
for brave Earl Piercies sake,  
This vow the King did well perform,  
after at Humble Down  
In one day fifty Knights were slain  
with Lords of high renown.   

And of the rest of small account,  
did many hundred die,  
Thus ended the hunting in Chevy Chase  
made by the Lord Piercy,  
God save the King and bless the Land,  
with plenty joy and peace,  
And grant henceforth that soul debate,  
'twixt Noblemen may cease.    
FINIS.   

London Printed for J. Wright in the old-Bayly,