But I and my man should taken be;
The people little knew,
As I may tell to you,
The King himself did wait on me.

From thence we went to the fatal place
Where his father lost his life;
And then my man did weep apace,
And sorrow with him then was rife.
I bid him peace,
Let sorrow cease,
For fear that we should taken be.
The gallants in Whitehall
Did little know at all
That the King himself did wait on me.

The King he was my serving-man,
And thus the plot we did contrive:
I went by the name of Mistress Anne
When we took water at Queenhythe.
A boat there we took,
And London forsook,
And now in France arrived are we.
We got away by stealth,
And the King is in good health,
And he shall no longer wait on me.

The King of Denmark's dead, they say,
Then Charles is like to rule the land;
In France he will no longer stay,