The lamentable Ditty of the little Mousgrove, and the Lady Barnet (F. Coles, T. Vere and W. Gilbertson)

by anon

For other versions of this work, see Little Musgrove and the Lady Barnet.

The lamentable Ditto of the little Mousgrove, and the Lady Barnet.
To an excellent new tune.

As it fell out on a Holy-day,
 as many more be in the year,
Little Mousgrove would to ye Church & pray,
 to see the fair Ladies there.
Gallants there were of good degree,
 for beauty exceeding fair,
Most wondrous lovely to the eye,
 that did to the Church repair.

Some came down in red Velvet,
 and others came down in Pall,
The next came down my Lady Barnet,
 the fairest amongst them all.
She cast a look on little Mousgrove
 as bright as the Summers Sun,
Full well then perceived Little Mousgrove
 Lady Barnets love he had won.

The Lady Barnet most meek and mild,
 saluted this little Mousgrove,
Who did repay her kind courtesie,
 with favour and gentle love.
I have a Bower in merry Barnet,
 bestrewed with Cowslips sweet,
If that it please you Little Mousgrove
 in Love me there to meet.

Within my arms one night to sleep
 for you my heart have won,
You need not fear my suspicious Lord,
 for he from home is gone;
Betide my life betide my death,
 this night I will lye with thee,
And for thy sake Ile hazard my breath,
 so dear is my love to thee.

What shall we do with our little foot page,
 our counsell for to keep,
And watch for fear Lord Barnet come,
 while we together sleep,
Red gold shall be his hire quoth he
 and silver shall be his fee,
So he our counsell safely keep,
 that I may sleep with thee.

I will have none of your gold he said
 nor none of your silver fee,
If I should keep your counsell sir,
 twere great disloyalty.
I will not be false unto my Lord,
 for house nor yet for Land,
But if my Lady prove untrue,
 Lord Barnet shall understand.

Then swiftly ran this little foot page,
 unto his Lord with speed,
Who then was feasting with his own friends
 not dreaming of this ill deed:
Most speedily the Page did hast,
 most swiftly did he run,
And when he came to the broken bridge,
 he bent his breast and swum.

The Page did make no stay at all,
 but went to the Lord with speed,
That he the truth may say to him,
 concerning this wicked deed.
He found his Lord at supper then,
 great merriment there they did keep,
My Lord quoth he this night on my word,
 Mousgrove with your Lady doth sleep.

If this be true my little foot page
 and true that thou tellest to me,
My eldest daughter Ile give thee
 and wedded thou shalt be:
If this be a lye my little foot page
 and a lye thou tellest to me,
A new pair of Gallows shall be set up
 and hanged thou shalt be.

If this be a lye my Lord said he
 and a lye that thou hearest from me,
Then never stay a Gallows to make,
 but hang me upon the next tree.
Lord Barnet then cal’d up his merry men
 away with speed he would go.
His heart was so perplext with grief,
 the truth of this he must know.

Saddle your Horses with speed he said,
 and Saddle me my white Steed.
If this be true as the page hath said
 Mousgrove shall repent this deed.
He charged his men no noise to make
 as they rode along on the way,
Nor wind no horn quoth he on your life,
 least our coming it should betray.

But one of them that Mousgrove did love
 and respected his friendship most dear,
To give him notice Lord Barnet was come,
 did wind the Bugle most clear.
And ever more as he did sound,
 away Mousgrove and away,
For if he take thee with my Lady,
 then slain thou shalt be this day.

O hark fair Lady your Lord is near,
 I hear his little horn blow,
And if he find me in your arms thus,
 then slain I shall be I know.
O lye still lye still little Mousgrove,
 and keep my back from the cold,
I know it is my fathers shepherd,
 driving sheep unto the pinfold.

Mousgrove did turn him round about,
 sweet slumber his eyes did greet,
When he did awake he then did espy
 Lord Barnet at the beds feet.
O rise up rise up little Mousgrove
 and put thy cloathing on,
It never shall be said in fair England
 that I slew a naked man.

Heres two good swords Lord Barnet said
 the choice Mousgrove shall make,
The best of them thy self shall have
 and I the worst will take.
The first good blow Mousgrove did strike
 he wounded Lord Barnet sore,
The second blow Lord Barnet gave
 Mousgrove could strike no more.

He took his Lady by the white hand,
 all love to rage convert,
And with his sword in most curious wise,
 he pierc’d her tender heart.
A grave a grave Lord Barnet cry’d,
 prepare to lay us in,
My Lady shall lye on the upper side,
 cause she is the better kin.

Then suddenly he slew himself
 which griev’d his friends full sore
The death of these three worthy wights
 with tears they did deplore.
This sad mischief by lust was wrought,
 then let us call for grace,
That we may shun this wicked vice,
 and flye from sin apace.

Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere and W. Gilbertson.