Ah, welladay! ye tradesfolk all Who sold your paltry wares so dear, But grudged our gains so scant and small, Whene'er ye purchased of our gear. 'Your knavery and your wicked lies, Your tricks and violated troth Shall surely meet their due emprise, When God descends in vengeful wrath, Then will ye curse your wealth, and say, In fear of heart, 'Ah, welladay.' Ah, welladay! ye craftsmen too, Farriers, and wights that curry skins: Your grinding avarice ye shall rue, When judgment falls upon your sins. The glibness of your glosing tongue Has fleeced us worse than usury, Tho' victims of your cunning wrong, Aye doomed to meagre misery. For you we work for wretched pay, Which makes us cry, 'Ah, welladay!' Ah, welladay! full well ye know, When we have sown our yearly seed, From driving rain, and frost and snow, And all the vermin, wars do breed, What ills our rising crop betide. Alas! our hoards of pulse and corn, The toiling peasant's joy and pride, Those vermin to their holes have borne: 'There while they heap their stores of prey, Well may we sigh, 'Ah, welladay!' Ah, welladay! if sooth we sing, Wherefore your pardon should we crave? Our doleful state your hearts should wring, For nought can we from pillage save. Our sleekest beeves, our fairest kine, Which fed us with their milky store, Our fleecy sheep, and fatted swine, Are vanish'd to return no more; And when we miss them, well we may Cry out, 'Alas! and welladay!' Ah, welladay! can folks who wear The form of men, and have a soul, Behold us through the frosty air Begging, in rags, the scanty dole; For all is gone: the hungry Scot And haughty Spaniard, in their turn, Have stripped us to the skin, God wot! And left us to lament and mourn. Hear then our dismal tale, nor say For nought we cry, 'Ah, welladay!' 'Oh, holy church! Oh, noble king! Sage counsellors, and soldiers brave, Lawyers and tradesfolk, thus we bring To you our plaints so sad and grave. For GOD, and for his mother's sake, Attend with pity to our cries, And on our state compassion take, Else will ye see, with weeping eyes, Your towers consumed by hostile fires; For if ye slight our humble prayer, Our urgent wants and just desires, Far different letters shall declare. But if you please, in serious mood And kind, these presents to peruse, God shall direct you to your good, Nor will ye still our prayer refuse. Then shall we cease to sigh and say, In grief of heart, 'Ah, welladay!' Amen! so GOD grant of his grace!' CHAP. LXXX. THE DAUPHIN LAYS SIEGE TO CÔNE-SUR-LOIRE.--THE EXPEDITION OF THE DUKE OF BURGUNDY FOR ITS RELIEF.--THE DEATH OF THE KING OF ENGLAND.