And they did maruaile very much,
There could be any archer such,
To shoote so farre the cloute to tutch,
Which is no newes to London.

And they might well consider than,
An English shaft will kill a man,
As hath been proued where and whan,
And chronicled since in London.
Yorke, &c.

The earle of Cumberlands archers won,
Two matches cleare, ere all was done;
And I made hast a pace to ronne;

To carie these newes to London.
And Walmsley did the vpshot win,
With both his shafts so neere the pin,
You could scant have put three fingers in,
As if it had been at London.

Though some I spent and some I lost,

I wanted neither sod nor roast,

As if it had been at London.

For there was plentie of euery thing,
Redd and fallowe deere, for a king,
I never sawe so mery shooting,

Since first I came from London.

Yorke, Yorke, &c.

God saue the cittie of Yorke therefore

That hath such noble friends in store
And such good aldermen send them more,
And the like good luck at London.

For it is not little joye to see,

When Lordes and Aldermen so agree,
With such according cummunaltie,
God sende vs the like at London.
Yorke, Yorke, &c.

God saue the good earle of Cumberlande,
His praise in golden lines shall stande,
That maintaines archerie through the land,
Aswell as they doe at London.
Whose noble minde so courteously,
Acquaintes himself with the cummunaltie
To the glory of his nobilitie,

I will carie the praise to London.
Yorke, Yorke, &c.

And tell the good earle of Essex thus,
As he is now yong and prosperous,
To vse such properties vertuous,

Deserues great praise in London:

For it is no little joye to see,

When noble youthes so gracious bee,

To giue their good willes to their countrie, As well as they doe at London.

Yorke, Yorke, &c.

Farewell good cittie of Yorke to thee,
Tell alderman Maltbie this from mee,
In print shall this good shooting bee,

As soone as I come at London.
And many a SONG will I bestowe,
On all the Musitians that I knowe;
To sing the praises where they goe,

Of the cittie of Yorke, in London.
Yorke, Yorke, &c.

God save our Queene, and keep our peace,
That our good shooting maie increase:
And praying to God let vs not cease,
As well at Yorke, as at London.

That all our countrey round about,
May have archers good to hit the clout,
Which England cannot be without,
No more than Yorke or London.
Yorke, Yorke, &c.

God graunt that (once) her majestie,
Would come her cittie of Yorke to see,
For the comfort great of that countree,
As well as she doth at London.
Nothing shalbe thought to deare,
To see her highnes person there,
With such obedient loue and feare,
As ever she had in London.
Yorke, Yorke, for my monie,
Of all the citties that ever I see,

For mery pastime and companie,
Except the cittie of London.

From Yorke, by W. E. [WILLIAM ELDERTON.] (Originally) Imprinted at LONDON by RICHARD Jones ; dwelling neere HOLBURNE BRidge. 1584.

SONG II.

THE HORSE RACE.

YOU heard how Gatherly race was run,
What horses lost, what horses won,
And all things else that there was done,
That day,

Now of a new race I shall you tell,
Was neither run for bowl nor bell,
But for a great wager, as it befell,

Men say.

Three gentlemen of good report

This race did make, to make some sport;
To which great company did resort,

With speed.

To start them then they did require,
A gallant youth a brave esquire,
Who yielded soon to their desire,

Indeed.

They started were, as I heard tell,

With, now St. George! God speed you well!

Let every man look to himsel,

For me.