Flodden Field Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCB DEFE GEHE IJKI LEMN OOIO IIPQ IEIE NNNN INNN OIII NIII IRIS SNTN UIVI

King Jamie hath made a vowA
Keepe it well if he mayB
That he will be at lovely LondonC
Upon Saint James his dayB
-
Upon Saint James his day at nooneD
At faire London will I beE
And all the lords in merrie ScotlandF
They shall dine there with meE
-
March out march out my merry menG
Of hie or low degreeE
I'le weare the crowne in London towneH
And that you soon shall beE
-
Then bespake good Queene MargaretI
The teares fell from her eyeJ
Leave off these warres most noble KingK
Keepe your fidelitieI
-
The water runnes swift and wondrous deepeL
From bottome unto the brimmeE
My brother Henry hath men good enoughM
England is hard to winneN
-
Away quoth he with this silly fooleO
In prison fast let her lieO
For she is come of the English bloudI
And for these words she shall dyeO
-
With that bespake Lord Thomas HowardI
The Queenes chamberlaine that dayI
If that you put Queene Margaret to deathP
Scotland shall rue it alwayQ
-
Then in a rage King Jamie did sayI
Away with this foolish momeE
He shall be hanged and the other be burnedI
So soone as I come homeE
-
At Flodden Field the Scots came inN
Which made our English men faineN
At Bramstone Greene this battaile was seeneN
There was King Jamie slaineN
-
His bodie never could be foundI
When he was over throwneN
And he that wore faire Scotland's crowneN
That day could not be knowneN
-
Then presently the Scot did flieO
Their cannons they left behindI
Their ensignes gay were won all awayI
Our souldiers did beate them blindeI
-
To tell you plaine twelve thousand were slaineN
That to the fight did standI
And many prisoners tooke that dayI
The best in all ScotlandI
-
That day made many a fatherlesse childI
And many a widow pooreR
And many a Scottish gay ladyI
Sate weeping in her bowerS
-
Jack with a feather was lapt all in leatherS
His boastings were all in vaineN
He had such a chance with a new morrice danceT
He never went home againeN
-
-
-
-
Now heaven we laude that never moreU
Such biding shall come to handI
Our King by othe is King of bothV
England and faire ScotlandI

George Wharton Edwards



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