Stepmother's Cruelty There was a lord of worthy fame and a hunting he would ride Attended by a noble train of gentry by his side And whilst he did in chase remain to see both sport and play His lady went, as she did fain, unto the church to pray This lord he had a daughter fair, whose beauty shined so bright She was beloved both far and near, of many a lord and knight Fair Isabella she was called, a creature fair was she She was her father's only joy as you shall after see But yet her cruel stepmother did envy her so much That day by day she sought her life, her malice it was such She bargained with the master cook to take her life away And taking of her daughter's book, she thus to her did say Go home, sweet daughter, I thee pray, go hasten presently And tell unto the master cook these words that I tell thee And bid him dress to dinner straight that fair and milkwhite doe That in the park doth shine so bright, there's none so fair to show This lady feared of no harm obeyed her mother's will And presently she hasted home her mind for to fulfill She straight into the kitchen went, her message for to tell And there the master cook she spied who did with malice swell You master cook, it must be so, do that which I tell thee You needs must dress the milkwhite doe which you do know full well Then straight his cruel bloody hands he on the lady laid Who quivering and shaking stands, whilst thus to her he said Thou art the doe that I must dress, see here, behold my knife For it is pointed presently to rid thee of thy life O then cried out the scullian bou, as loud as loud might be O save her life, good master cook, and make your pies of me For pity sake, do not destroy my lady with your knife You know she is her father's joy, for Christ's sake, save her life I will not save her life, he said, nor make my pies of thee But if thou dost this deed betray, thy butcher I will be But when this lord he did come home for to sit down and eat He called for his daughter dear to come and carve his meat Now sit you down, his lady said, o sit you down to meat Into some nunnery she is gone, your daughter dear forget Then solumly he made a vow before the company That he would neither eat not drink until he did her see O then bespoke the scullian boy with a loud voice so high If that you will your daughter see, my lord, cut up that pie Wherein her flesh is minced small and parched with the fire All caused by her stepmother, who did her death desire And cursed be the master cook, o cursed may he be, I proffered him my own heart's blood, from death to set her free Then all in black this lord did mourn and for his daughter's sake He judged for her stepmother to be burned at the stake Likewise he judged the master cook in boiling leads to stand And made the simple scullian boy the heir to all his land. from a broadside from 1600s SOF
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!