Come, follow your leader, follow

Come , follow your leader, follow;
Our convoy be Mars and Apollo,
The van comes brave up here; Answer
As hotly comes the rear. Omnes:
Our knackers are the fifes and drums,
Sa, Sa, the gipsies' army comes!

Horsemen we need not fear,
There's none but footmen here;
The horse sure charge without;
Or if they wheel about, Omnes:
Our knackers are the shot that fly,
Pit-a-pat rattling in the sky.

If once the great ordnance play,
That's laughing, yet run not away,
But stand the push of pike,
Scorn can but basely strike; Omnes:
Then let our armies join and sing,
And pit-a-pat make our knackers ring.

Arm, arm! what bands are those?
They cannot be sure our foes;
We'll not draw up our force,
Nor muster any horse; Omnes:
For since they pleased to view our sight,
Let's this way, this way, give delight.

A council of war let's call,
Look either to stand or fall;
If our weak army stands,
Thank all these noble hands; Omnes:
Whose gates of love being open thrown,
We enter, and then the town's our own.
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