Come, archers, learn the news I tell To the honour of your art, The Scottish King at Flodden fell By the point of an English dart; Though Fire and Pike did wondrous things, More wonders still did we, And every tongue with rapture sings Of the lads of Newbury. The bonny lads of Westmorland, And the Cheshire lads were there With glee they took their bows in hand And with shouts disturbed the air. Away they sent the Grey Goose Wing, Each killed his two or three; Yet none so loud with fame did ring As the lads of Newbury. They swore to scale the mountain bold, Where some in vain had tried; That their toes might take the better hold Their boots they cast aside. Barefooted soon they reached the height, 'Twas a goodly sight to see, How fast the Scots were put to flight By the lads of Newbury. Lord Stanley saw with much delight And loud was heard to say, "Each ought, by Jove, to be a Knight, For to them we owe the day!" The Cheshire lads began the rout, And the Kendal boys so free, But none of them will have fought more stout Than the lads of Newbury. Now God preserve our Lord the King, Who travels far in France, And let us all of Bowmen sing, While round our cups we dance; The Chester lads were brisk and brave, And the Kendal lads are free, But none surpassed, or I'm a knave, The lads of Newbury.