1.
A king was sitting on his throne,
And on his throne was sitting he;
He bethought himself of a tribute due,
Been due in France so many years.
2.
Then he called up his little page,
His little page then called he;
Saying, " You must go to the king of France,
And demand that tribute due to me. "
3.
Away, away went that little page,
Away, away and away went he,
Until he came to the king of France,
Then he fell down on his bended knee.
4.
" My master's great as well as you,
My master's great as well as you;
He demands that tribute, tribute due,
Or in French land you will him see. "
5.
" Your master's young, of tender age,
Not fit to come to my degree;
To him I send five tennis balls,
That in French land he dare not be. "
6.
Away, away went the little page,
Away, away and away went he,
Until he came to his master dear,
Then he fell down on his bended knee.
7.
" What news, what news, my little page?
What news, what news do you bring to me? "
" Such news, such news, my master dear,
The king and you will not agree. "
8.
" He says you're young, of tender age,
Not fit to come to his degree;
To you he sends five tennis balls,
That in French land you dare not be. "
9.
The king he numbered up his men,
One by two and two by three,
Until he got thirty thousand men,
A noble jolly bold company.
10.
" No married men, no widow's son,
No married men can follow me;
No married men, no widow's son,
A widow's son can't follow me. "
11.
Now he's marched off to the king of France,
With drums and trumpets so merrily;
And the first that spoke was the king of France,
Saying " Yonder comes proud King Henry! "
12.
The first broadside those Frenchmen gave,
They slew our men so bitterly;
And the next broadside our English gave,
They killed five thousand and thirty three;
And the next that spoke was the King of France,
Saying: " Lord, have mercy on my men and me! "
13.
" Now if you'll march back from whence you came,
With drums and trumpets so merrily,
The finest flower in all French land,
Five tons of gold shall be your fee. "
14.
Now he's marched back from whence he came,
With drums and trumpets so merrily,
And the finest flower in all French land,
Five tons of gold now is his fee.
A king was sitting on his throne,
And on his throne was sitting he;
He bethought himself of a tribute due,
Been due in France so many years.
2.
Then he called up his little page,
His little page then called he;
Saying, " You must go to the king of France,
And demand that tribute due to me. "
3.
Away, away went that little page,
Away, away and away went he,
Until he came to the king of France,
Then he fell down on his bended knee.
4.
" My master's great as well as you,
My master's great as well as you;
He demands that tribute, tribute due,
Or in French land you will him see. "
5.
" Your master's young, of tender age,
Not fit to come to my degree;
To him I send five tennis balls,
That in French land he dare not be. "
6.
Away, away went the little page,
Away, away and away went he,
Until he came to his master dear,
Then he fell down on his bended knee.
7.
" What news, what news, my little page?
What news, what news do you bring to me? "
" Such news, such news, my master dear,
The king and you will not agree. "
8.
" He says you're young, of tender age,
Not fit to come to his degree;
To you he sends five tennis balls,
That in French land you dare not be. "
9.
The king he numbered up his men,
One by two and two by three,
Until he got thirty thousand men,
A noble jolly bold company.
10.
" No married men, no widow's son,
No married men can follow me;
No married men, no widow's son,
A widow's son can't follow me. "
11.
Now he's marched off to the king of France,
With drums and trumpets so merrily;
And the first that spoke was the king of France,
Saying " Yonder comes proud King Henry! "
12.
The first broadside those Frenchmen gave,
They slew our men so bitterly;
And the next broadside our English gave,
They killed five thousand and thirty three;
And the next that spoke was the King of France,
Saying: " Lord, have mercy on my men and me! "
13.
" Now if you'll march back from whence you came,
With drums and trumpets so merrily,
The finest flower in all French land,
Five tons of gold shall be your fee. "
14.
Now he's marched back from whence he came,
With drums and trumpets so merrily,
And the finest flower in all French land,
Five tons of gold now is his fee.