A TRAGICAL BALLAD

Of the unfortunate loves of

Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor,

TOGETHER WITH

The Downfall of the Brown Girl.

LORD Thomas he was a bold Forester,
And a chacer of the King's deer,
Fair Eleanor was a fine woman,
And Lord Thomas he loved her dear,

Come riddle my riddle, dear mother, he said,
And riddle us both in one,
Whether I shall marry with Fair Eleanor,
And let the brown girl alone;

The Brown Girl she has got houses and lands,
And Fair Eleanor fhd has got none,
Therefore I charge thee on my blessing,
Bring me the Brown Girl home;

And as it beel on a high holiday,
As many more do beſide,
Lord Thomas went to Fair Eleanor,
That should have been his bride)

But when he came to Fair Eleanor's bower,
He knocked at the ring,
Then who so ready as Fair Eleanor
To let Lord Thomas in.

What news, what news, Lord Thomas, she said,
What news hast thou brought unto me?
I am come to bid thee to my wedding,
And that is sad news for thee.

O God forbid! Lord Thomas, she said,
That such a thing should be done,
I thought to have been thy bride myself,
And thou to have been the bridegroom.

Come riddle my riddle, dear mother, she said'
And riddle it all in one,
Whether I shall go to Lord Thomas's wedding,
Or whether shall let it alone?

There's many that our friends, daughter,
And many that are our foes,
Therefore I charge you on my blessing,
To Lord Thomas's wedding don't go.

Ther's many that are our friends, mother,
If a thousand were our foes,
Betide me life, betide me death,
To Lord Thomas's wedding I'll go.

She cloathed herself in gallant attire,
And her merry men all in green,
And as she rode through every place
They took her to be some Queen.

When she came to Lord Thomas's gate,
She knocked at the ring,
And who was so ready as Lord Thomas
To let Fair Eleanor in.

Is this your bride, Fair Eleanor said,
Methinks he looks wonderful brown,
Thou mightst have had as fair a woman,
As ever trod upon the ground.

Despise her not, Lord Thomas he said,
Despise her not unto me,
For better I love thy little finger
Than all her whole body.

This Brown Girl had a little penknife,
Which was both long and sharp,
And betwixt the short ribs and the long,
She prick'd Fair Eleanor to the heart.

O Christ! now save me, Lord Thomas he said
Metinks thou look'st wonderful wan,
Thou usedst to look as good colour,
As ever the sun shin'd on.

O art thou blind, Lord Thomas, she said,
Or canst thou not very well see?

O dost thou not see my own heart's blood
Run trickling down my knee?

Lord Thomas he had a sword by his side,
As he walk'd about the hall,

He cut his bride's head off from her shoulders,
And haſtung it against the wall.

He set his sword upon the ground,
And the point against his heart,
There never were three lovers sure,
That sooner did depart.

Printed and sold by J. Ewing, No. 41, Long Lane.