I beg of thee, show us thy mercy my gracious king,
Hear ye my cries, as I lie prostrate before thee,
My son, not yet a man, and thus as a child doth sing,
Knows not of what he does; hear ye my mother's plea.
Begone thy tiresome wench, as now mine patience wanes,
I hear thy foolish mother's plea; doth not thee know,
To bow before his king, thou trait'rous son refrains?
And thus a coward's death unto your son bestow.
Dearest mother, mourn thee not what death shall bring,
For I shall die not as a boy, but as a man,
I shan't e'er bow, on knee before an evil king,
Whose treachery, pales thievery of highwayman.
Farewell to moon, to stars, in death I hold no fear,
For in demise, Freedom!, I gain what I hold dear.
I shall mourn as thou preparest for thy demise,
At morning's light, whence you shall die on the morrow,
Thou doth stand tall in spite of youth's statured size,
Harken thee one thing, as speak through mother's sorrow,
My noble son, thou hast fought the popish soldiers,
Who in their cowardice art half as strong as thee,
Thou hath conquered with conviction, King's armingers,
In thy execution, thou shall win life's victory,
Lo, as David to Goliath, with shepherd's sling,
Thou have met on field of honor, the Philistine,
Though thy life is taken, thy name will honor bring,
In heart of every freeman, ever shall they dene,
T'was knight of Garter's Order; ever shall they sing,
Of martyr who would never, kneel to unjust king.