When she came to Wallington, and into Wallington-hall, There she spy’d her mother dear walking about the wall. You’re welcome, daughter dear, to thy castle and thy bower. I thank you kindly, mother, I hope they’ll soon be your’s. She had not been in Wallington three-quarters and a day, Till upon the ground she could not walk, she was a weary prey; She had not been in Wallington three-quarters and a night, Till on the ground she cou’d not walk, she was a weary ‘wight.’ Is there ne’er a boy in this town who’ll win hose and shun, That will run to fair Pudlington, and bid my mother come? Up then spake a little boy, near unto [her] a-kin, Full oft I have your errands gone, but now I will it run. Then she call’d her waiting-maid to bring up bread and wine: Eat and drink, thou bonny boy, thou’ll ne’er eat more of mine: Give my respects to my mother, as [she] ‘sits’ in her chair of stone, And ask her how she likes the news of seven to have but one. Give my love to my brother William, Ralph, and John; And to my sister Betty fair, and to her white as bone, And bid her keep her maidenhead, be sure to make much on’t, For if e’er she come in man’s bed, the same gate will she gang. Away this little boy is gone as fast as he could run, When he came where brigs were broke, he lay down and ‘swum.’ When he saw the lady, he said, Lord may your keeper be! What news, my pretty boy, ‘hast’ thou to tell to me? Your daughter ‘Mabel’ orders me, as you sit in a chair of stone, To ask you how you like the news of seven to have but one; Your daughter gives commands as you sit in a chair of ‘state,’ And bids you come to her sickening, her ‘weary’ lake-wake: She gives command to her brother William, Ralph, and John; To her sister Betty fair, and to her white [as] bone, She bids her keep her maidenhead, besure make much on’t, For if e’er she come in man’s bed the same gate wou’d she gang. She kickt the table with her foot, she kickt it with her knee, The silver plate into the fire so far she made it flee: Then she call’d her waiting-maid to bring her riding-hood, So did she on her stable-groom to bring her ‘stead so good:’ Go saddle to me the black, go saddle to me the brown, Go saddle to me the swiftest steed that e’er rid Wallington, When she came to Wallington, and into Wallington-hall, There she espy’d her son Fenwick walking about the wall. God save you, dear son, Lord may your keeper be! Where is my daughter fair, that used to walk with thee? He turn’d his head round about, the tears did fill his eye; ’Tis a month, he said, since she took her chambers from me. She went on, and there were in the hall Four and twenty ladies letting the tears down fall: Her daughter had a scope into her chest, and into her chin, All to keep her life till her dear mother came therein.