A Ballad Entitled, 
a New well a day/  
As plain master Papist, as Donstable way.   
Well a day well a day, well a day woe is me  
Sir Thomas Plomtrie is hanged on a tree.  

Among may news  
As touching the Rebels  
their wicked estate,  
Yet Sir Thomas Plomtrie,  
their preacher they say,  
Hath made the North country, to cry well a day.  

Well a day, well a day, well a day, woe is me,  
Sir Thomas Plomtrie is hanged on a tree.    

And now many fathers and mothers be there,  
are put to their trials with terrible fear,  
Not all the gay Crosses nor gods they adore,  
will make them as merry, as they have been before,  

Well a day, well a day, etc.    

The widows woeful, whose husbands be taken  
the children lament them, are so for saken,  
The church men that chanted the morrow mass bell  
Their Pardons be granted they hung very well.  

Well a day well a day. etc.    

It is known they be fled, that were the beginners  
it is time they were dead, poor sorrowful sinners  
For all there great haste, they are hedged at a stay  
with weeping & wailing to sing well a day.  

Well a day, well a day. etc.    

Yet some hold opynon, all is well with the highest  
they are in good safety where freedom is nieste  
Northumberland need not, be doubtful some say,  
and Westmorlande is not, yet brought to the bay.  

Well a day, well a day etc.    

Not more is not Norton, nor a number beside,  
But all in good season, they may hap to be spied,  
It is well they be wandered, whether no man can say  
But it will be remembered, they cry well a day.  

Well a day, well a day. etc.    

Where be the fine fellows, that carried the crosses,  
Where be the devisers, of Idols and Asses,  
Where be the gay Banners, were wont to be borne  
where is the devotion of gentle john shorn.  

Well a day, well a day. etc.    

Saint Pall, and Saint Peter, have laid them a board  
and say it is feetter to cleave to God's word  
Their Beads, & their babbles, are best to be burnt  
and Moses tables towards them to be turned.  

Well a day, well a day. etc.    

And well a day, wandereth still to and fro,  
be wailing the wonders, of rumours that go,  
Yet say the stiff necked let be as be may,  
though some be sore checked, yet some scape away  

Well a day, well a day. etc.    

And such some be sowers of seeds of Sedition,  
and say the pope's pardon, shall give them remission  
That keep themselves, secret and preevilie say,  
it is no great matter for this well a day.  

Well a day, well a day. etc.    

You shall have more news er Candelmas come  
their be matters diffuse yet looked for of some,  
Look on, and look still, as ye long to here news  
I think Tower hill, will make ye all muse.  

Well a day, well a day. etc.    

If they that leave tumbling begin to war climbing  
for all your momblinge and merry pastimeing.  
You will then believe, I am sure as I say,  
that matter will meene, a new well a day.  

Well a days, well a day. etc.    

But as ye be faithless, of God and his law,  
so till ye see hedles, the Traitors in straw,  
You willbe still whispering of this and of that,  
well a day, woe is me, you remember it not  

Well a day, well a day. etc.    

Leave of your lying, and fall to true reason,  
leave of your fond spying, and mark every season  
Against God & your country to talk of reveling  
not Sir Thomas Plumtrie can bide by the telling  

Well a day, well a day. etc.    

And such as seduce the people with blindness,  
and bid them to trust the Pope and his kindness  
Make work for the tinker, as proverbs doth say,  
by such popish patching, still comes well a day.  

Well a day, well a day. etc.    

And she that is rightful your Queen to subdue ye,  
although you be spitful hath given no cause to ye  
But if ye will vex her, to try her hole force,  
let him that comes next her, take heed of her horse  

Well a day, well a day. etc.    

she is the Lieftennante of him that is stoutest,  
she is defender of all the devowtest,  
It is not the Pope nor all the Pope may,  
can make her astonied, or sing well a day.  

Well a day, well a day.    

God prospero her highness, and sand her his peace,  
to govern good people, with grace, & increase,  
And sand the deservers, that seek the wrong way  
at Tyburn some Carvers, to sing well a day.  

well a day, well a day. etc.    
W. E.  
Finis.   

¶ Imprinted London in Fleestrete beneath the Conduit, at the sign of S. john Evangelist, by Thomas Colwell.   

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