They went lightly on their way,
With swords and bucklers round;
By that it was the middes of the day,
They had made many a wound.
There was many a neat-horn in Carlisle blown,
And the bells back-ward did ring;
Many a woman said "Alas!"
And many their hands did wring.
The Mayor of Carlisle forth come was,
And with him a full great rout;
These three yeomen dread him full sore,
For their lives stood in doubt.
The Mayor came armed a full great pace,
With a poleaxe in his hand;
Many a strong man with him was,
There in that stour to stand.
The Mayor smote Cloudeslie with his bill,
His buckler he burst in two;
Full many a yeoman with great ill,
"Alas! treason!" they cried for woe.
"Keep we the gat-es fast," they bade,
"That these traitors thereout not go!"
But all for nought was that they wrought,
For so fast they down were laid,
Till they all three that so manfully fought,
Were gotten without at a braid.
"Have here your keys," said Adam Bell,
"Mine office I here forsake;
If you do by my coun-sel,
A new port-er do ye make."
He threw the keys there at their heads,
And bade them evil to thrive,
And all that letteth any good yeo-man
To come and comfort his wife.
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