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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
BALLADE OF THE SCOTTYSHE KINGE, by JOHN SKELTON Poem Explanation Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Kyng jamy, your joye is all go Last Line: And god save noble kynge henry the viii. Subject(s): Henry Viii, King Of England (1491-1547) | |||
Kyng Jamy your Joye is all go Ye sommnoed our kynge why dyde ye so? To you nothyng it dyde accorde To sommon our kynge your soverayne lorde. A kynge a somner it is wonder Knowe ye not salt and suger asonder? In your sommynge ye were to malaperte And your harolde no thynge experte. Ye thought ye dyde it full valyauntolye But not worth thre skippes of a pye. Syr squyer galyarde ye were to swyfte Your wyll renne before your wytte. To be so scornefull to your alye Your counseyle was not worth a flye. Before the frensshe kynge / danes / and other Ye ought to honour your lorde and brother. Trowe ye syr James his noble grace For you and your scottes wolde tourne his face Now ye prode scottes of gelawaye For your kynge may synge welawaye. Now must ye knowe our kynge for your regent Your soverayne lorde and presedent In hym is figured melchisedeche And ye be desolate as armeleche. He is our noble champyon A kynge anoynted and ye be non, Thrugh your counseyle your fader was slayne Wherfore I fere ye wyll suffre payne And ye proude scottes of dunbar Parde ye be his homager And suters to his parlyment Ye dyde not your dewty therin. Wyerfore ye may it now repent Ye bere yourselfe som what to bolde Therfore ye have lost your copholde Ye be bounde tenauntes to his estate Gyve up your game ye playe chekmate For to the castell of norham I understonde to soone ye cam. For a prysoner now ye be Eyther to the devyll or the trinite. Thanked be saynte Gorge our ladyes knythe Your pryd is paste adwe good nyght. Ye have determyned to make a fraye Our kynge than beynge out of the waye But by the power and myght of god Ye were beten with your owne rod. By your wanton wyll syr at a worde Ye have lost spores, cote armure, and sworde Ye had better to have busked to huntey bankes Than in England to playe ony suche prankes But ye had som wyle sede to sowe Therefore ye be layde now full lowe, Your power coude no longer atteyne Warre with our kynge to meyntayne Of the kynge of naverne ye may take hede How unfortunately he doth now spede, In double welles now he doeth dreme. That is a kynge witou a realme At hym example ye wolde none take Experyence hath brought you in the same brake Of the out yles ye rough foted scottes We have well eased you of the bottes Ye rowe ranke scottes and dronken danes Of our englysshe bowes ye have fette your banes. It is not syttynge in tour nor towne A somner to were a kynges crowne That neble erle the whyte Lyon, Your pompe and pryde hath layde a downe His sone the lorde admyrall is full good His swerd hath bathed in the scottes blode God save kynge Henry and his lordes all And sende the frensshe kynge suche an other fall Amen for saynt charyte And god save noble Kynge Henry the VIII. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A ROYAL VISIT TO THE VAULTS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON WINDSOR POETICS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE AIR REGISTER by CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER VERSES ON HENRY THE EIGHTH'S SEIZING THE ABBEY-LANDS by THOMAS WARTON THE ELDER RECOLLECTION OF THE PORTRAIT OF KING HENRY VIII by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH TUDOR PORTRAIT by RICHMOND LATTIMORE MANNERLY MARGERY, MILK AND ALE by JOHN SKELTON A PRAYER TO THE FATHER OF HEAVEN by JOHN SKELTON LULLAY, LULLAY by JOHN SKELTON MAGNYFYCENCE: PART 1 by JOHN SKELTON |
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