Lovel and John

Lo now, I bid you, my merry men all,
Put your armour on!
Bind on your helms of the burning gold,
And follow Sir John!

Sir Peter home from the Thing did fare,
(Put your armour on)
Forth came little Kirsten to meet him there,
And ask after John.

“Welcome, dear father, home from the Thing!
(Put your armour on)
Tell me what tidings hast thou to bring?”
What news of Sir John?

“These are the tidings I have for thee,
(Put your armour on)
That young Sir Lovel thy bridegroom shall be.”
And not Sir John.

“If young Sir Lovel my bridegroom shall be,
(Put your armour on)
Sorrow and care shall he have with me!”
While he lives, Sir John.

Sir Lovel to bridal-feast doth speed,
(Put your armour on)
Sir John hath bidden them shoe his steed.
“I go with him,” said John.

Sir John he rode to the blithe bridàle,
(Put your armour on)
High on his horse in his coat of mail.
“I come!” said John.

When the dew fell fast and the eve was sped,
(Put your armour on)
The bride must go to the bridal-bed.
“I go thither!” said John.

They led the bride to the bridal-bower,
(Put your armour on)
Sir John he carried the torch before.
“I first,” said John.

Sir John he locked the door aright:
(Put your armour on)
“Now bid Sir Lovel a gay good-night!”
All from Sir John.

Straight to Sir Lovel the news they cried:
(Put your armour on)
“Sir John he sleeps with thy fair young bride!”
That did Sir John.

Now when the day was dawning there
(Put your armour on)
Sir Lovel forth to the king did fare.
“I go with him!” said John.

“My gracious lord, now hark and heed!
(Put your armour on)
A plaint have I that craves for rede.”
“’Tis of me,” said John.

“A fair young bride I thought to wed,
(Put your armour on)
But another knight took the bride instead!”
“That was I,” said John.

“And if ye both hold the maid so dear,
(Put your armour on)
Now for her sake ye shall break a spear.”
“I shall win!” said John.

The first of the courses they rode so free,
(Put your armour on)
Sir Lovel’s horse fell on his knee.
“Hold up!” said John.

And when they rode to the joust again,
(Put your armour on)
Sir Lovel’s neck was broken in twain.
“Lie there!” said John.

She clapped her hands, the dainty dame:
(Put your armour on)
“Ne’er did I see so fair a game!”
Thus he won, Sir John.
—Bind on your helmets of burning gold,
And follow Sir John!