A Newe Ballade Made Of Thomas Crumwel, Called Trolle On Away
Trolle on away, trolle on awaye,
Synge heave and howe rombelowe trolle on away.
Both man and chylde is glad to here tell
Of that false traytoure Thomas Crumwell,
Now that he is set to learn to spell.
Synge trolle on away.
When fortune lokyd the in thy face,
Thou haddyst fayre tyme, but thou lackydyst grace;
Thy cofers with golde thou fyllydst a pace.
Synge trolle on away.
Both plate and chalys came to thy fyst,
Thou lockydst them vp where no man wyst,
Tyll in the kynges treasoure suche thinges were myst.
Synge trolle on away.
Both crust and crumme came thorowe thy handes,
Thy marchaundyse sayled over the sandes,
Therfore nowe thou art layde fast in bandes.
Synge trolle on away.
Fyrste when Kynge Henry, God saue his Grace!
Perceyud myschefe kyndlyd in thy face,
Then it was tyme to purchase the a place.
Synge trolle on away.
Hys grace was euer of gentyll nature,
Mouyed with petye, and made the hys seruyture;
But thou, as a wretche, suche thinges dyd procure.
Synge trolle on away.
Thou dyd not remembre, false heretyke,
One God, one fayth, and one kynge catholyke,
For thou hast bene so long a scysmatyke.
Synge trolle on away.
Thou woldyst not learne to knowe these thre;
But euer was full of iniquite:
Wherfore all this lande hathe ben troubled with the.
Synge trolle on away.
All they, that were of the new trycke,
Agaynst the churche thou baddest them stycke;
Wherfore nowe thou hast touchyd the quycke.
Synge trolle on away.
Both sacramentes and sacrementalles
Thou woldyst not suffre within thy walles;
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
