Well, I know this isn't medieval, but it could've happened once in the further past (blackleg: strikebreaker)

They rub wet clay in the blackleg's face,

And around the heaps they run a footrace

To catch the blackleg miner.

And even down near the Seghill mine,

Across the way they stretch a line

To catch the throat, to break the spine

Of the dirty blackleg miner.

They grabbed his duds, his picks as well,

And they hoy them down the pit of hell,

Down you go, we pay you well,

You dirty blackleg miner.