And away to Ingoldsby Hall I flew!
Dame Alice I found,--She sank on the ground,--
I twisted her neck till I twisted it round!
With jibe and jeer and mock and scoff,
I twisted it on--till I twisted it off!--
All the King's Doctors and all the King's Men
Can't put fair Alice's head on agen!"

"Well-a-day! well-a-day! Sir Ingoldsby Bray,
Why really--I hardly know what to say:--
Foul sin, I trow, a fair Ladye to slay,
Because she's perhaps been a little too gay.--
--Monk must chaunt and Nun must pray;
For each mass they sing, and each pray'r they say,
For a year and a day, Sir Ingoldsby Bray
A fair rose-noble must duly pay!
So may his qualms of conscience cease,
And the soul of Dame Alice may rest in peace!"

"Now pardon, Holy Father, I crave,
O Holy Father, pardon and grace!
No power could save That paramour knave;
I left him, I wot, in evil case!
There midst the slain Upon Ascalon plain,
Unburied, I trow, doth his body remain
His legs lie here and his arms lie there,
And his head lies--I can't tell your Holiness where!"

"Now out and alas! Sir Ingoldsby Bray,
Foul sin it were, thou doughty Knight,