All night our English men they lodged there, So did the Scots both stout and stubborn, But well-away was all their cheere, For we have served them in their own turn. For a downe, &c. All night they carded for our _English_ mens Coats, (They fished before their Nets were spun) A white for Six-pence, a red for two Groats; Wisdome would have stayd till they had been won. For a down, &c. On the twelfth day all in the morn, They made a fere as if they would fight; But many a proud _Scot_ that day was down born, And many a rank Coward was put to his flight. For a down, &c. And the Lord _Huntley_, we hadden him there, With him he brought ten thousand men: But God be thanked, we gave him such a Banquet, He carryed but few of them home agen. For a down, &c. For when he heard our great Guns crack, Then did his heart fall untill his hose, He threw down his Weapons, he turned his back, He ran so fast that he fell on his nose. For a down, &c. We beat them back till _Edenbrough_, (There’s men alive can witnesse this) But when we lookt our English men through, Two hundred good fellowes we did not misse. For a down, &c. Now God preserve _Edward_ our King, With his two Nuncles and Nobles all, And send us Heaven at our ending: For we have given _Scots_ a lusty fall. For a down, down, derry derry down, Hey, Down a down down, down a down derry. _Lipps and Eyes._ In _Celia_ a question did arise, Which were more beautifull her Lippes or Eyes. We, said the Eyes, send forth those pointed darts, Which pierce the hardest Adamantine hearts. From us, (reply’d the Lipps) proceed the blisses Which Lovers reape by kind words and sweet kisses. Then wept the Eyes, and from their Springs did powre Of liquid Orientall Pearle a showre: Whereat the Lippes mov’d with delight and pleasure, Through a sweet smile unlockt their pearly Treasure: And bad Love judge, whether did adde more grace, Weeping or smiling Pearles in _Celia’s_ face. _On black Eyes._ Black Eyes; in your dark Orbs do lye, My ill or happy destiny, If with cleer looks you me behold, You give me Mines and Mounts of Gold; If you dart forth disdainfull rayes, To your own dy, you turn my dayes. Black Eyes, in your dark Orbes by changes dwell. My bane or blisse, my Paradise or Hell. That Lamp which all the Starres doth blind, Yeelds to your lustre in some kind, Though you do weare, to make you bright, No other dresse but that of night: He glitters only in the day. You in the dark your Beames display. Black Eyes, &c.