Simon was old, but his heart itt was bold; His ordinance he laid right lowe; He put in chaine full nine yardes long, With other great shott lesse, and moe; And he lette goe his great gunnes shott: Soe well he settled itt with his ee, The first sight that Sir Andrew sawe, He see his pinnace sunke in the sea. And when he saw his pinnace sunke, Lord, how his heart with rage did swell! "Nowe cutt my ropes, itt is time to be gon; Ile fetch yond pedlars backe mysell." When my lord sawe Sir Andrewe loose, Within his heart he was full faine: "Now spread your ancyents, strike up your drummes, Sound all your trumpetts out amaine." Fight on, my men, Sir Andrewe sais, Weale howsoever this geere will sway; Itt is my Lord Admirall of England, Is come to seeke mee on the sea. Simon had a sonne, who shott right well, That did Sir Andrewe mickle scare; In att his decke he gave a shott, Killed threescore of his men of warre. Then Henrye Hunt with rigour hott Came bravely on the other side, Soone he drove downe his fore-mast tree, And killed fourscore men beside. Nowe, out alas! Sir Andrewe cryed, What may a man now thinke, or say? Yonder merchant theefe, that pierceth mee, He was my prisoner yesterday. Come hither to me, thou Gordon good, That aye wast readye att my call: I will give thee three hundred markes, If thou wilt let my beames downe fall. Lord Howard hee then calld in haste, "Horseley see thou be true in stead; For thou shalt at the maine-mast hang, If thou misse twelvescore one penny bread." Then Gordon swarved the maine-mast tree, He swarved it with might and maine; But Horseley with a bearing arrowe, Stroke the Gordon through the braine; And he fell unto the haches again, And sore his deadlye wounde did bleed: Then word went through Sir Andrews men, How that the Gordon hee was dead. Come hither to mee, James Hambilton, Thou art my only sisters sonne, If thou wilt let my beames downe fall Six hundred nobles thou hast wonne. With that he swarved the maine-mast tree, He swarved it with nimble art; But Horseley with a broad arròwe Pierced the Hambilton thorough the heart: And downe he fell upon the deck, That with his blood did streame amaine: Then every Scott cryed, Well-away! Alas! a comelye youth is slaine. All woe begone was Sir Andrew then, With griefe and rage his heart did swell: "Go fetch me forth my armour of proofe, For I will to the topcastle mysell." "Goe fetch me forth my armour of proofe; That gilded is with gold soe cleare: God be with my brother John of Barton! Against the Portingalls hee it ware; And when he had on this armour of proofe, He was a gallant sight to see: Ah! nere didst thou meet with living wight, My deere brother, could cope with thee."