1. As it befell in midsummer-time, When birds sing sweetly on every tree, Our noble king, King Henry the Eighth, Over the river of Thames passed he. 2. He was no sooner over the river, Down in a forest to take the air, But eighty merchants of London city Came kneeling before King Henry there. 3. ‘O ye are welcome, rich merchants, Good sailors, welcome unto me!’ They swore by the rood they were sailors good, But rich merchants they could not be. 4. ‘To France nor Flanders dare we not pass, Nor Bordeaux voyage we dare not fare, And all for a false robber that lies on the seas, And robs us of our merchant’s-ware.’ 5. King Henry was stout, and he turned him about, And swore by the Lord that was mickle of might; ‘I thought he had not been in the world throughout That durst have wrought England such unright.’ 6. But ever they sighed, and said, alas! Unto King Henry this answer again; ‘He is a proud Scot that will rob us all If we were twenty ships and he but one.’ 7. The king looked over his left shoulder, Amongst his lords and barons so free; ‘Have I never a lord in all my realm Will fetch yond traitor unto me?’ 8. ‘Yes, that dare I!’ says my lord Charles Howard, Near to the king whereas he did stand; ‘If that your Grace will give me leave, Myself will be the only man.’ 9. ‘Thou shalt have six hundred men,’ saith our king, ‘And choose them out of my realm so free, Besides mariners and boys, To guide the great ship on the sea.’ 10. ‘I’ll go speak with Sir Andrew,’ says Charles, my lord Howard, ‘Upon the sea, if he be there; I will bring him and his ship to shore, Or before my prince I will never come near.’ 11. The first of all my lord did call, A noble gunner he was one; This man was three score years and ten, And Peter Simon was his name. 12. ‘Peter,’ says he, ‘I must sail to the sea, To seek out an enemy; God be my speed! Before all others I have chosen thee; Of a hundred gunners thou’st be my head.’ 13. ‘My lord,’ says he, ‘if you have chosen me Of a hundred gunners to be the head, Hang me at your main-mast tree If I miss my mark past three pence bread.’ 14. The next of all my lord he did call, A noble bowman he was one; In Yorkshire was this gentleman born, And William Horsley was his name. 15. ‘Horsley,’ says he, ‘I must sail to the sea, To seek out an enemy; God be my speed! Before all others I have chosen thee; Of a hundred bowmen thou’st be my head.’ 16. ‘My lord,’ says he, ‘if you have chosen me Of a hundred bowmen to be the head, Hang me at your main-mast tree If I miss my mark past twelve pence bread.’ 17. With pikes, and guns, and bowmen bold, This noble Howard is gone to the sea On the day before mid-summer even, And out at Thames’ mouth sailed they.